The Sting
by knirbenrots
Summary: It is all about who to trust to get exactly there where you wanted to be. And G. Callen is not known for trusting anyone that easy.
1. Chapter 1

**The Sting**

It is all about who to trust to get exactly there where you wanted to be. And G. Callen is not known for trusting anyone that easy.

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals~]

* * *

A/N Although this story wasn't written before, the idea of writing it never left my mind. As ever, it is a work of fiction which means that names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Feel free to read this chapter as well and leave me a review!

Kni®benrots

* * *

**DISCLAIMER:**  
Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play with them. So far, I never heard any complaints from over the ocean.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**October 2019 || ****Los Angeles || the gym, NCIS office of special projects **

All sweaty after working his abs, Callen took his towel and wiped it over his face, watching how his partner was still working the dumbbells.  
"You know I'm right, big guy," he stated. He adjusted the seat and weights of the leg press machine, got into position and started the five minute exercise.  
"Not arguing any longer, are you," he continued.

There was no comment indeed from Sam and although Callen knew he was right, he also was aware that getting sloppy wasn't what fit with Sam at all. Silently now he let his thoughts go over the fact that during the past years, the black Dodge Challenger was parked at the same places all the time, obvious for anyone who would harm the former Seal. Let alone if it were for the rest of the team. Near the Michelle at the harbor, in the neighborhood of the 'Squid and the Dagger' and on the small parking area near their headquarters. He let the weight come back as slowly as possible, straining his muscles, and slowly breathed out. The car was seen in several occasions when in pursuit, shoot-outs and at crime scenes.

"Just saying Sam… change of cars … new routine… or I pick you up… all possible," he panted.

There was a glare from his partner who now changed the intensity of his exercise rhythm. "Not trusting my daily routine, are you, G?"

"Got nothing to do with trust…'n you know that."  
Callen didn't know if that was true though. He DID trust his partner, yet there were too many people looking for them, he knew. There were the good guys - but also the bad - who'd recognize this specific car by now. He wondered why it was only now that he realized this fact. Did it have to do with Hetty's statement some weeks ago, telling him that she considered retirement? The fact that he noticed how time and routine slipped through his fingers, which surprised him more than he ever considered before.  
Slowing down his exercise he said "Not that I don't trust you. It's just that… the routine. It can't be good. Gives me the creeps every now and then."

A chuckle came from his friend. "Every now and then? Come on… Just call it super-suspicious, paranoia perhaps."

Callen was about to argue Sam's words, but then a warning yell came from the door where Eric stood "Guys… Ops please!"

A grunt came from Sam who put the dumbbells high on the storage rack. "Tell us a shower is granted, Eric!"

The technical operator stretched his hand, showing five fingers. "Ochoa wants you up in five."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Ops, NCIS office of special projects **

The doors slid open and closed immediately too when Sam and Callen came walking in. It didn't surprise them to see Kensi, Deeks, Nell and Eric already around. Having Louis Ochoa at Ops too wasn't new to them, but he hadn't been in the LA office lately. After all, Ochoa had offered Callen to be in charge during the periods when Hetty, nor John Rogers were there to lead the operations.  
There was a simple nod from the three of them to greet each other and once she'd noticed this, Nell Jones started her briefing.

"You may or may not remember operation Underground Railroad? The mission of this operation back in 2014 was to track down child traffickers in Colombia. Back then it was the work of a single male agent who managed to spent months planning and investigating and finally, together with the Colombian authorities, managed to break up this sex-trafficking ring."

Four pairs of eyes faced the large screen where she'd gathered the information about that operation.

"What's this got to do with us?" Deeks asked, eagerly as ever to get to the point.

"I'll get to that," Nell replied. "This was over five years ago, and ever since, it's been quiet from the Colombian side. It seemed that every new rings we picked up intel of were in Mexico and Cuba. More recently, Homeland Security managed to work their way into another operation, in Haiti. An undercover op. They required our team to assist in this new operation, called 'Papa Napoleon'."

"We'll be going undercover in Haiti?" Sam asked.

"Just inform yourselves what this co-operation could look like," Ochoa said. "I've arranged a meeting at their office at North Los Angeles Street."

Sam nodded, grabbed the keys of his car already. "You're ready, partner?"  
He then shook his head hearing Deeks sigh out loud "A ticket to the tropics with you baby. Doesn't that sound great?"

"Yeah, and I thought you'd never ask, baby" Callen commented to Deeks remark and grinned when he heard Kensi giggle at his remark. He took his jacket that he'd grabbed from the locker but hadn't put it over his black t-shirt, striding to follow his large partner.

"Not you, Callen."

He turned on his feet, facing Ochoa. No matter how the deputy director addressed only him, the others of the team were holding back their pace as well, eager to hear what Ochoa was to say.  
Callen didn't have to ask, the explanation came immediately after.

"There's a Homeland officer waiting for you at the boatshed. Special agent Angel," Ochoa said. "Your team can start without you."

Callen straightened his shoulders. "Who is this officer and why discuss a matter right there? Can't it wait or can I rearrange this meeting to their office too?"

Ochoa shook his head and motioned to the others to go ahead and the sliding doors closed behind Kensi, who was the last one to leave. Only now Callen asked again, not being bothered by the analysts who were still around. "What do they want from me?"

"To be honest, I don't know," Ochoa sighed. "All I was told is that it isn't about you as the team leader but a special request for you, agent Callen."

"Requested by whom?" The blue of his eyes was more intense in the artificial light and it made his stare more demanding.  
He knew that the deputy director had no other information he could share when Ochoa simply repeated: "Like I said, Homeland."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' Boat House **

Callen halted his grey Mercedes near their second location in town. He only noticed Mark Henders' car, no other vehicles were parked so far. He pressed the entrance code, opened the door and closed it behind him.  
He knew he and the Homeland agent would only be around for a talk and not for any interrogation and only because of that, Henders' presence wasn't necessary right now. He figured he may just as well use one of their interrogation rooms and have whatever conversation.

"I'll be in room 2 when the agent of Homeland arrives, Mark. Turning off the camera and sound right now," he said.  
After he did so, he poured himself a cup of fresh coffee and leaned against the kitchen buffet. In his line of work it was never clear what intentions someone had and right now it was useless preparing for the next hour or less. He took his coffee and laptop to the interrogation room and started searching the system with the information Nell had given earlier.  
If Homeland wanted a joint operation right now, his team was informed about it at the same time. And how about him being here as Callen, not as the lead agent of his team?

He sighed, knowing it was easier to just listen to what the agent had to say.

He heard how the outside door was opened by Henders and so he closed his laptop. Then he got on his feet to meet his company.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**The Sting**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals~]

* * *

A/N Thank you for reading the first chapter. I was writing this story as some kind of prequel to episode 'The Circle' 11x15. But of course with my own twist ? I sure hope you'll like what your read in this second chapter of this story.  
Please let me know by leaving a review.

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' Boat House **

For a while the Homeland Security special agent doubted if the address that was given was the right one, not too sure if the navigation system in the rental car worked okay. After all, this was far from any ordinary office-building and far from Los Angeles' Downtown. Instead, the location was somewhere in the Los Angeles harbor area.  
Two cars were parked along the side of what seemed an ordinary boathouse. Yet, there was a camera which spied the entrance door, that much was clear. Anyone who'd approach would be noticed. Right, so this was the place.  
Once the door of the car was opened the fresh ocean breeze overruled the thick and hot city smog.

Special agent Anghel drew in a deep breath, then headed for the entrance.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"Special agent Angel's here to see you, Callen," Henders announced in the open door of the interrogation room.

Callen got on his feet. He had no idea who he was going to meet. The first thing that crossed his mind was that this woman was far too young to be a special agent.  
She was young and small, but except for that, she could have been a model, with high cheekbones, large catlike eyes in a very light greenish grey color. Lean.  
With her chin up just a little like she had while she let her gaze go over him, he thought 'perky'.  
There was a certain fragility, but he doubted that she was fragile at the same time.

Despite of her model-like features she had tried to make a casual entrance. She was certainly not overdressed and not uniformed either. Actually, she was dressed just like everyone of his own team. Faded jeans, a plain white blouse and a dark blue jacket, black boots.

He extended his hand and introduced himself 'special agent Callen, NCIS' and she did the same. "Homeland, Ioulia Anghel."

Callen raised his brows when he heard her pronounce her name. "So it's An-ghèl, not Angel?"

The smile she sent him was less confident, but she nodded anyway.

He let go of his grasp and motioned to the room. "Just have a seat in there. Can I get you something to drink?"

"A glass of water will do, please."

He came back in the room too, a matter later, putting her glass and his coffee mug on the table. Then he took a seat as well, opposite of her, and waited until she took a first sip from the glass.  
She obviously wasn't going to be the first to explain, and so he finally asked "So, you wanted to see me. Tell me, what is this important to you that we both miss the briefing in your office?"

She scraped her throat and kept her gaze fixed at the glass she still had in her hands. Then she put it down on the table, let her hands go through her short dark brown hair and wet her lips. Looking up at him, she blew out a sigh and said "It's quite a story. Complicated too, so please let me explain. Ehm… during the past few months I've been working in Fort-Liberté, Haiti."  
Her eyes clouded now, Callen noticed, when she continued "I started a modeling agency in there. In fact, it was a set-up, where I tried to work with sex traffickers. As an undercover operation, though."

Again, she paused and Callen decided he'd simply wait until she'd go on explaining.

"Girls… no, boys and girls, are targeted on the street. Sometimes in orphanages too. Some of them are far too young —" another sip of water followed, and this time she didn't look up before she went on: "these kids are lured in and sent over to me, hoping they'll be able to earn some money as a model. I'm interviewing them. Make some pictures. Make them — no, not me, but these people I have to work with - make them a lot of promises. These kids have to wait only a little, hoping they'll make it in LA. Instead, they're being transferred to a large containership, until the arrangements are made with the contacts in Los Angeles. If they're lucky my co-workers will pick them up before anyone else can sell them. Experts are trying to undo the damage done to these kids, here in town, before they head home again."

He shook his head. "You're working with sex traffickers… that's, well, Julia, it's a sick job if you'd ask me."

His message stung, Callen noticed as he saw a spark of annoyance in her eyes.

"It is." Her voice was soft now. "It's — it's not that easy to stay sane, you know. You don't know how it is to smile confidently at those kids. To keep it going when working with people who are pure evil. But I have to… It's horrifying to think what may happen to those kids if I quit or if I can't come back. I got back a week and a half ago and I don't really want to go back. But like I said, I have to… I have to rescue these kids."  
Again, she jutted her chin just a little to look more self-assured. "So far, I — we got 150 kids back into safety, agent Callen. Damaged kids. You don't want to know…"

"Indeed, I don't want to know," he interrupted rather harshly. "What has this got to do with me? It's a long story you're telling and like I said, I don't get why you do what you do. Nor why I have to know it."

"Because someone's got to do it. And I do have to get back doing it. As long as they trust me. They won't hesitate to move their business if they suspect something's going on. Until now, they think they received a payment. Dirty work paid with dirty digital money. And we work with all kind of efforts our government has available on this side of the border. But rumor goes they'll move their business to Los Angeles. Before or after I'm back on the island, I don't know," she replied while looking him in the eyes.  
He read the hesitance. "I'm only in there because I was the only one who speaks French, and because of my looks."

Callen had listened to everything she said and leaned back in his chair, meanwhile sipping his coffee and letting his thoughts go. "Yet you are not French," he remarked.

She shook her head. "American."

He squeezed his eyes. "Who're you working with? And again, what does it have to do with me?"

"You trust me?"

He huffed. "I trust Homeland Security. I trust my team, my family…"

"Callen. I was asked to look for a federal agent with this name and believe me, it wasn't that easy to find you. Do you know how many Callens there are in this city? But then, CIA, FBI, DEA, even my own agency: nobody seemed to know you."

"Who asked you to look for me?" He now leaned forward on his elbows, keeping his voice and face composed. Deep down, he knew it was nothing good he was going to hear.

"Your father," she started, unsure now how to continue, "Your father took care of a man —"

He spat up from his chair, his hands on her side of the table now and he swore in a hissing voice. "Damn. I don't have to do this."  
There was rage in his eyes and voice now as he turned to leave the room.

Her voice was stronger now when she continued. "Darius Comescu."

In only a matter of a second he reached her side of the table and growled "You're fucking working with Comescu? Get out."

Slowly, she got up on her feet, biting her lip. "You can trust —"

His face was close to hers now and he hissed "Never. Now get out."

"Agent Callen, please —"

His hands were locked around her wrists less than a second later and his face close. She swallowed when she saw his bright blue eyes burning from suppressed violence.

"Comescu can't be trusted. And no, I don't trust anyone with that name. Ioulia… lucrul cu răul te face și tu rău [working with evil makes you evil too]."

He should've know better. She was a special agent as well, still the head butt that came his way surprised him. In a reflex he hit her back and after she stumbled to the floor, she slowly got up. With her left hand she wiped over her face, leaving blood smears on her hand and on her face.

She turned once she was in the door already and despite of all the anger he felt, he read the sorrow in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Callen. Sorry for what happened to you," she said. "Forget what I was telling you. I'll handle it myself."

Moments later he heard the door of the boathouse close.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**The Sting**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals~]

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you for reading so far. As I mentioned before, I'm writing this story as some kind of prequel to episode 'The Circle' 11x15. But of course with my own twist ? I sure hope you'll like what read.

* * *

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play with them. So far, I never heard any complaints from any of the directors or CBS.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' office of special projects**

"What the heck, Callen?" Eric said when he looked up to see the senior lead agent entering Ops.  
A red spot showed on his forehead, most certainly bruising in a matter of time. But that wasn't what bothered the technical analyst most, it was the look in Callen's eyes. Haunted and utterly angry.

"Where's Ochoa?" Callen wanted to know.

Nell turned to face him as well by now and she was the one to answer by simply motioning in the direction of the upstairs office that Mosley once had designed. Then she mouthed 'the Ninja'.

"What... Hetty?"

"She's home, Callen," Nell confirmed. "It probably means assistant director Ochoa is leaving any time soon."

"Sam and the others are on their way too," Eric added.

"Right," Callen said. He wiggled his jaw several times, then stepped out of the analysts' office, letting the sliding doors close behind his back again. Before anyone else had the chance to interfere with a briefing whatsoever he felt he needed to talk to Ochoa.

Without knocking to announce his presence to the glass office, Callen simply opened the door. He never really minded that he interrupted a conversation and just butted in: "Comescu... what do you know about Darius Comescu?"

"Mr. Callen!" Hetty exclaimed. Obviously she didn't expect him to be at the office and most certainly not rushing in like he just did.

"Hetty," he greeted her, warmer than his voice only just sounded.

"Agent Callen, you're interrupting my briefing and assignment to Hetty. If you'd be so kind as to wait till we finish this —"

"Your tête a tête can wait. I need to know now what you know about Darius Comescu."

Hetty inhaled deep and was the one who replied first. "Oh dear... well, young man, that's quite a long story indeed. You see, your father—"

"I don't need to hear about my father and how he chose... him over me," Callen snapped. "Where is he, this Darius?"  
It wasn't a question, more a demand.

"Right. Right... oh dear," Hetty sighed. "Please, sit, Mr. Callen. Now, about this Darius Comescu. We have reason to believe he has entered Los Angeles only some days ago."

"Damn," he swore. "That's bad."

"Is it?" Ochoa asked, his face as unreadable as ever.

For a second Callen stared at the other man, then he said: "What do you mean? Of course it is. I don't know if you're aware of the deadly history between the Comescus and Callens?" There was a short pause and softer now he muttered "Crap... I really thought we banned them all from LA."  
He let his hands go over his short hair, leaned his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, heaving a deep sigh. "So now you're going to pull me out of whatever case we're working on, right?"

"That's what you and agent Anghel agreed upon this morning?"

"What?" His head jerked up. "No way. We... She... actually we've not discussed that at all. We parted."

"Now, now. You mean after or before she got the chance to explain, Mr. Callen?"

"What the heck, Hetty, how do you know about what we were talking about?"  
But of course she knew. Somehow she always did.  
"Later. I wanna know what you know about this... Comescu," he said.

"Agent Callen, I suggest you get back to work." Ochoa peeked at his watch and glanced at Hetty who nodded, more serious than Callen was used to see her.  
She added to Ochoa's words: "We'll meet you at Ops in about 10 minutes. See what the youngsters can find out."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Still bad-tempered and with a growing headache, he grabbed a chair and sat down behind one of the unused computers at Ops.

He didn't want to annoy the young analysts and so he started searching the systems with a few simple keywords. In a matter of minutes he was trying to concentrate on everything that appeared on his screens but even more with the thoughts running through his head.

He was irritated because someone he didn't even know seemed to know about his personal situation.  
Why, for heaven's sake, had his father decided to chose a Comescu above his own son and give that man more love than Callen ever felt from Nikita? And why had the old man decided to never to talk about it? On the other hand, why had he himself never dared to ask his father about it? What had he done wrong… why was he less important, less estimated? Why… was he never good enough and why hadn't his father trusted him, but had he trusted this stranger? Like in his youth, when Callen was never good enough for any grown up to accept and adopt him? Why did this… this damned situation hurt him so much more than he allowed it to be? Because of this Romanian family he didn't know what to believe and who to trust any longer.  
He rubbed his temples, knowing the headache wasn't leaving that way.

Like NCIS, Homeland Security also had a few officers working on undercover operations for ICE. Callen now supposed that this special agent Ioulia Anghel was one of them. Considering what agent Anghel told him she was the one to set up a sting abroad, and from that point on a different team would pick up where she left.

"Nell, you shared your information earlier this morning. Was that all there is to know?"

The younger information analyst swiveled her chair around. She hummed a few times and replied "Sam and the others should know more from now on. Like Ochoa mentioned there was the special request of this agent to discuss a matter with you alone."  
In fact, Nell hoped that Callen would open up just a little more what happened between him and the other agent. The simple fact that he'd turned off the communication lines with Ops meant she hadn't been able to find out about it.  
However, the senior agent just shook his head. Sure, perhaps he'd learn more when Ochoa and Sam would be up for an update. He'd find out how to contact this Anghel and maybe she was willing to meet again. There had to be something he missed and he never gave her a real chance to share her story.

There were some surprised yells from the cubicle at the ground floor and for once, Callen wasn't particularly looking forward to meet the enthusiastic talk of Deeks and Kensi. He sighed, knowing Ochoa and the team would be in Ops only seconds from now.

Indeed, the doors opened automatically and Sam, Kensi and Deeks entered, soon being followed by Ochoa and Hetty.

"So I was right, it was your coat hanging on the hanger," Sam said with the most sincere smile that lit up his face. He bend to embrace the small woman. "It's been a while, Hetty! Welcome home."  
The others all seemed to speak at the same time and it was clear to the seasoned Operations Manager that they were happy to see her back at the office indeed.

She let her gaze go over the men and women around her as well and smiled too, although there was melancholy all over her face. "It's good to have you all in here as well."

Before all the chit-chatting would start, Ochoa scraped his throat and said "Miss Lange agreed to run the office for the time being. You all may or may not know that she decided to reduce her working weeks and is perhaps looking for a successor in the meantime."

Sam glanced at his partner who was definitely not in the best mood. Was Callen taking that leap from field work to running the office? And was that why his friend decided to look the other way?

"Right," Ochoa continued. "Agent Hanna, a report please, on what you've gone through with the other agency."

Sam nodded and in his usual warm and dark tone he started. "Homeland asked us to be part of a team which needs to be ready break up a large and international human trafficking ring and arrest the suspects. It'll be a case on our own turf however."

"Which means it'll be cheap as well, since there will be no flights to the warm islands of Haiti," Deeks added.

Sam took over again. "Operation 'Papa Napoleon' will be a joint operation, mainly run by Homeland Security, their special division, CIA and NCIS. Of course, I offered them our cooperation." He shrugged. "That was mainly why you sent us to go through all the facts, right?"

Ochoa nodded as well. "I suppose that Peters' team with VanderHooft, Harari , Sandler and Peters himself will join you."

"They mentioned they'd need about 10 agents from NCIS, didn't they?" Kensi confirmed. "So that'll be the four of them and the four of us."

"Unfortunately not, Miss Blye," Hetty said. "This'll be a case you will work without Mr. Callen as a lead agent. Which means there'll be only seven of our agency. But isn't seven one of the lucky numbers?"

"Wait… what? Is there a particular reason Callen is not working with us?" Kensi uttered her worries.

Hetty nodded with a soft sigh. "In fact there is, Miss Blye. But this is a matter I prefer to discuss with Mr. Callen. It'll all be clear before 'Papa Napoleon' is in its final deal."

* * *

_Thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave a review._

Kni®benrots


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**The Sting**

* * *

Author's Note: as ever, thank you so far for reading this story. Like I said before, the story started with just a faint idea of how Anna and Darius would end up in the episode we all saw last week. Different, very different indeed, of how this storyline is going, but then, who cares?

Feel free to read and review!

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_"__Wait… what? Is there a particular reason Callen is not working with us?" Kensi uttered her worries. _

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' office of special projects**

After Hetty's words that it would all be explained, Sam knew already that the explanation of the veteran operative would come later, much later. Yet he wanted to know now what he read in his friends eyes.  
"G... You're good?" Sam asked, letting his gaze to over his partner's face.

Callen shrugged. "Don't know. There's... I've got a lot to think of. Guess you'd better lead this case for our agency, buddy."

"And you?"

"Seems I'm not going to be part of that team. You heard Hetty."

"Agent Callen," Ochoa called.

"Later," Sam understood with a nod. He'd try and ask Nell who probably would share what she knew.

Callen followed the assistant director who marched into the glass room. Ochoa closed the door behind him an sat down in the desk chair.

Callen still stood. "What?" His simple question was.

"This Comescu you mentioned," Ochoa started. " You think he's not to be trusted?"

He studied the lead agent's face. Despite all the personal issues some of the agents had, cases were still solved. Mostly with them. But right now, Henrietta Lange doubted if it was okay for Callen to do so, because of his past.

The agent in charge paced around the room some time and shook his head when he realized there only was one answer.  
"I... I don't know. Looking at it positively, we fought side by side for less than half an hour and I never saw him again. Maybe it's just... well, mentioning his name triggers something negative," he confessed.

Ochoa leaned forward, his elbows on the desk and paused a moment, rubbing his chin several times. "You think you can act professionally? That's what ICE asked of you. Or put it differently, they were supposed to ask, because it seems you didn't really give the full briefing of special agent Angel a real chance, did you?"

"Anghel," Callen automatically corrected. "Romanian too, you know."

Ochoa frowned. "Didn't know that."

Callen heaved a deep sigh and gently touched his head. "Guess I should give it another try then. You got her number?"

A small smile appeared on Ochoa's face as he took his phone. "I trust you play this game like the others will play theirs too, agent Callen. We need you to go undercover and pose as a customer. We can and will end this operation, but we can only do so to have this sting planned perfectly. You're in?"

A short nod was all he needed from the best undercover agent he knew.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Venice**

It was his choice to meet on the pier in Venice, where they'd blend in. Perhaps it was less threatening for Iuulia Anghel and he preferred some fresh air since he hoped it cleared his head.  
He sat on one of the benches and took off his jacket, carefully covering the holster at the small of his back with the hem of the blue button-down shirt.

Ioulia Anghel came walking his way, wearing a fresh white sleeveless shirt on a gray linen skirt. Callen was sure there were more men appreciating what they saw. She was light on her feet, had a healthy tan which fit well with her dark hair. With her bright eyes in a strange greenish grey color and a faint smile on her face she was attractive and delicate and angelic at the same time.  
He smiled — never mind her appearance, he knew by now she was a strong fighter too.

Callen made sure this wasn't going to be personal. Strictly business in here. He put on his sunglasses and got up from the stall.

Much to his surprise the first thing she did was to gently touch the bump on his head and shake her head. "Sorry for that. I didn't—"

Callen just shook his head. "You had every reason to. Never mind."

He took a few steps in silence since he didn't know where to start. "About Darius," he started.

"Later," she said. "I was told you're going to be in the final chapter of this whole deal."

He hummed a confirmation.

She wet her lips unwillingly. "You know, I can't be seen. Not in here, in Los Angeles. I'm supposed to be in Haiti after all. My cover, told you about it."

"You did. So, there's a team going to bust in to arrest these people. A joint operation, I was told."

"Your people, mine, CIA. Perhaps Europol as well," she confirmed.

"So...," Callen said. "Regardless of a complete team that'll come rushing in, this sting will end because of your work and mine."

Now she hummed and she breathed in deep and slow and said "And Darius'. I do have to tell you about him."

Again, she noticed his frustration and how he clenched his jaw. Still she went on. "He came in from Cuba to Haiti. Saw what happened there. Once I... we found out about this gang is moving their market — Well, maybe market is the wrong word..."  
There was sorrow all over her face.  
"Darius is some kind of an informant," She went on. "He knows I infiltrated with the bad guys and he mentioned they're leaving Haiti and move their business to Los Angeles."

She glanced at him. He was in a great shape, strong and somehow calm too, although she'd seen him cold and angry as well. Yet she understood why, feeling betrayed like he was. She sensed his vulnerability and strength at the same time. A fascinating man to work with, she figured.  
He still didn't like her to talk about Darius Comescu and she understood why. However, she had to explain.  
"Darius told me about the man who took him in when he was young and who now lives in the city. And about you. He figured you could help."

"He... we don't know each other."

"But he speaks highly of you. How well you work undercover, how many times you did things that were thought to be impossible". Softer then "Also, how Comescus killed your mother."

He opened his mouth to say something but shook his head instead.

She put her hand on his forearm and stopped walking. Stopped him too. "I'm sorry for that Callen."

Behind his sunglasses he closed his eyes for a brief second. He didn't need her compassion, did he? Still, it felt okay. He changed the subject, just slightly. "My father died. I don't know what he shared with this Comescu and why. Neither why you decided to come and look for me, while there are so many great co-workers of yours who could help you out."

Ioulia nodded. "I get that." She smiled at him and said "vorbesti limba, Romana" [you speak the language, Romana].

He lifted his glasses and put them off in the end, folding them and put them at the upper buttoned part of his shirt while he let his thoughts go over that. "That shouldn't matter."

"It does. Because what I found out is that the guys you'll be dealing with are also Romanian."

Callen inhaled and went quiet now. His mind in a whirl now he decided "Can't do that without discussing this with my co-workers first, Iuolia. You see, in the past I've made some enemies in town who all were liaised to the Comescu family. They might recognize me and the whole sting could go wrong. We need to have these kids in safety, that's priority number one, right?"

She nodded. "You're so right. It's just that…"

"What?" he asked, this time without any judgement, just with curiousity.

"Nothing important," Ioulia said. "I'd like to see how you'd handle this and would love to work with you. That's all."

There was a small smirk now on his face when he let his gaze lock on her face. He heard nothing she didn't mean, which came as a surprise. "Why?"

"You're a legend. My boss says so and with Darius' words… well."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || The Squid and the Dagger **

"Wait… So you get a meet and greet and walk and talk with this model-like secret agent who wants to work with the legendary G. Callen and you did whàt?" Deeks raised his voice. "You come and ask us what _WE_ think about it?"

"It makes you OLD, Grisha," Sam grinned. "And we still need to mother you."

Callen swallowed a long swig of his beer as he wondered how to explain this complicated situation again. He swirled the bottle slowly. "It's just that… We can't let this sting go south, do we? So what if I run into some guys who recognize me and we fail to rescue those kids."

"You think the intel this Comescu has is the right one?" Kensi asked.

He shrugged. "Don't know. All I can do is try and trust him."

"This Angel trusts this Comescu, you say." Deeks concluded.

"Not an Angel, Deeks, it's agent Anghel," Callen corrected.

"Sleep on it, G," Sam said. "If you still feel doubts about it, tell Hetty. Maybe we can change positions."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Callen took the last swig and put the bottle down. As if it was a sign for the others to do the same thing. "I'll put them away, guys," Callen said as he noticed how Kensi yawned against Deeks' shoulder.

"Pick you up at 7.15 tomorrow morning, G," Sam said as he stiffly got up from the bar stool.

Callen shook his head. "The other way around, buddy. You know what we discussed this morning about that black Challenger of yours. Got a loan car from the office, an unnoticed Hyundai. So don't go and shoot me when I pick you up at 7.25."

"Wait, that's 10 minutes later?" Deeks said.

"That's right. You know how many people hate to get out of the way for a fancy Dodge with some kind of hip-hop-artist behind the wheel? Well, that's why they don't. Different for me driving around. Just a regular guy who needs to get to his regular office in his regular car, like they all go. They'll make way, if necessary. I'd easily win 10 minutes," Callen grinned.  
He enjoyed moments like these with his co-workers. No way he'd change his field work for an office job.

They left the pub, still bantering, and he shook his head. He got up as well and took the four bottles that were left on the bar and put them in the crate in the kitchen. He halted and took a bottle of cold water from the fridge and sipped from it, taking deep breaths. So much to think of. He shook his head and took a cue and headed for the pool table.

Behind him, he heard the door being opened and closed again and he said "What did you forget this time?"

No smart remark from Deeks this time. Instead he heard 'Hi Callen.'

He spun on his feet, stunned. "Anna!"

"How are you?" she asked.

Rather speechless he simply said "I've been looking for you. I was worried."

She smiled a beautiful smile, relaxed but also more estranged than he wished, and she replied "I know. I'm fine. But I think you might be in danger."

He put down the cue and took another few sips of water, his gaze a question mark while she put off her jacket and explained what she felt she had to.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**The Sting**

* * *

Author's Note: Just a small hick-up in my planning made that uploading this next chapter took a bit more time. And you will find out—of course!—that I won't follow the story of the show, after all, that story was written already and repeating it would be boring, right?

In case you may recognize any names or perhaps even events: that would be pure coincidence, so please don't blame me!

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_She smiled her beautiful smile, relaxed but also more estranged than he wished, and she replied "I know. I'm fine. But I think you might be in danger."_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || The Squid and the Dagger **

Anna didn't even take off her jacket. After Callen put down the cue on the pool-table, he leaned against it.  
Anna however, took one of the stools and sat down, facing him. There was a worrying look on her face when she said "This is what we discovered: Darius Comescu entered Los Angeles."

"We?"  
Callen tilted his head slightly. He was actually too dumbfounded to see Anna standing in front of him and talking about him being in danger. He sighed and said "Look, I mean... I know he's in town, Anna."

"You know?" Anna asked fully surprised. "But..."

"Which 'we' are you talking about Anna?" Callen repeated.

"Jo... and the CIA."

"Joelle is around too?"

Anna shook her head. "She has a lead to follow herself. But... I did call Hetty."

He just hummed and shook his head as well. "Ah, Anna... I, well, we know about Darius. Hetty didn't say anything about it?"

"Really? No, she didn't tell." Her face brightened, she hopped from the stool and she came closer. "I think that's good. I thought I had to let you know, but now that you know I feel better."  
She smiled her usual smile, keeping her lips closed and her large eyes in the even more narrow face than he remembered. She kept her gaze fixed on his. Then there was the sudden realization "You fought today!"

"Hardheaded, as ever," Callen remarked.

Both fell silent.  
"So, how've you been Anna?"

"I'm doing fine, Grisha. Travelling a lot. I've worked with Joelle ever since Cuba and the CIA pays me. But you know, I'm still a fugitive."

He was grateful she healed well enough after being shot in Cuba. Well enough to work again.  
"So where do you stay?" He didn't know if he could hope she would stay for the night. "Anna, you know you can—"

She shook her head, sadder than he'd hoped. "Grisha... No I can't. Hetty's waiting for me and Arkady expects me to stay at his place. I'll be okay, have been okay all the time. I'm really fine, have been okay all the time even when you were not around, you know. I am doing fine without you. It's okay."

Her hand caressed his cheek, the stubble beard slightly longer than she remembered.  
"Tomorrow I will see you at your HQ, Callen."

She didn't kiss him. Instead, she let her thumb go over his lips, then her hand on his cheek again. Just when he decided to kiss her, she stepped back and turned. She opened the door and said "Just lock this place carefully Callen. You never know who may come in. Never trust a..."  
She shook her head and didn't say the word she intended to: 'Comescu'.  
"Just stay safe."

Then she was gone. And he didn't know what to expect from her, nor why he felt more left out than ever before. Even so, he made a decision himself. After all, he had been looking for her in every single system for the past few months. Now that she found him, he had to change his mission from 'search' to 'keep.'

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' office of special projects || early next morning**

He never was a good sleeper but he slept terribly last night. He needed coffee, for sure. He took a cup and filled it with a quick filtered coffee.

"Oh Mr. Callen?"  
Hetty's voice came from up on the plateau of the metal staircase, and it more or less sung. She did this when she wanted something special from him. Probably just to hear his reports of the day before and to check if his ideas matched what she heard from Anna.

Although Callen felt glad to see Anna sitting in the glass office upstairs, it was odd to know that she and Hetty discussed this matter while he was not around. Did they talk about him?

He had no choice but to go upstairs and entered the office.

"Please sit down, Mr. Callen, and let me pour you a cup of tea," the older lady said.

He shook his head and held his cup. "Prefer the caffeine at the moment."

"So, Miss Kolcheck mentioned the two of you met already last night?"

He nodded. "She knows what we know. That is, unless the two of you have discussed more than one shared with me, so far."

There was a short chuckle from the woman he spent so much time with in the past. "You sure you're not jealous, Callen?"

Callen just sighed and shook his head. "Listen, I just haven't slept all that well and I need to get to the boatshed for another meeting with Homeland special agent Anghel. Major problem is that there are more Romanian citizen involved. I intend to find our if any of them are familiar to me, before I make the final decision to go in this mission or not."

"Very well, Mr. Callen." There was one of Hetty's special smiles which came his way. "Your decision is what matters indeed. Please do remember that if there are any names or faces which are known to you, you abort this mission and somebody else goes in your place."

"Hetty said you plan to go in undercover."

He nodded. "A multi-agency investigation and operation."

She hummed something that sounded denigrating.  
He caught her gaze and asked "What?"

There was something which looked like pouting of her lips. "When you're going under and there are Comescu's around, are you sure your intel is going to be valid, Callen?"

Again, he simply sighed. "Please, Anna. I know what I'm doing. Remember, I'm a big boy. I get it you're worried and as I just stated, the final decision is to be made later. But if there's anything you know of and I don't, please just say it out loud."

"It's… it's okay, Callen. Like I said before, just take care."

He finished the coffee and got up. "I will." Willingly, he let his hand lean on her shoulder only shortly, still not too sure whether she appreciated that or not. "Stay low, will you?" he mentioned before he left.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' Boatshed **

This time Henders let in a uniformed woman: Ioulia Anghel wore the standard dark blue ICE uniform, with a cap which she took off immediately once she'd entered the boatshed.  
She put it next to her on the kitchen table in the center of the boatshed, as well as the laptop case she carried. Then she greeted him, rather formal with a handshake this time.  
"Wasn't too comfi meeting twice at the same place, so this may seem a bit awkward," she said. Her hands went through her brown hair. "But as I mentioned before, I don't want to be recognized since I am supposed to be somewhere in Haiti."

"I get that," Callen said and gestured to the table. "Take a seat, agent Anghel."

"Ioulia, please. No use to be this formal if you'd ask me." She looked around. "Different from the interrogation room you took me to yesterday. This is your secret hide-away? I mean... NCIS'?"

"Kind of," he said. He poured a cup of coffee. "You want one?"

She shook her head. "You got some water?"

"Of course." He took a bottle from the fridge, took off the cap and put the bottle it on the table in front of her, with a glass next to it. Then he took his coffee and sat down as well, leaving two chairs between his and hers. "This is the place we usually meet with other agencies. We tend to keep our headquarters hidden as much as possible, as it is an office for Special Projects."

"James Bond stuff, like that?"

She was more relaxed than the day before. Unlike him. The return of Anna in town was different from what he expected and he wasn't sure of her attitude right now. Next to that, there was the fact that this other woman apparently trusted Darius Comescu, AKA Reznikov. A man who'd lived his life with HIS father's name. Years when Callen had been searching for any clues of a family he belonged to. No way Callen's mood was the best. He sipped from his hot coffee and leaned his elbows on the table.  
"Nothing as fancy as Bond's," he explained. "Let's say that because of our undercover stuff we prefer to keep the place as secret as possible for enemies. And from friends too, perhaps. You've seen that this place is always guarded. We interrogate in here, there are camera's everywhere yet there's no one in here longer than 24 hours. My team can observe though and we can ask them whatever we want. Or the other way around," he explained.

"Different from the plain offices we have in every rather big city," Ioulia understood. "Seattle was the office I used to work and to be honest, I hardly know anyone here in town. Lucky enough I can find the headquarters in LA by now."

He took some more coffee and wondered what Anna had meant when she asked if the intel he'd been given was valid so far and why and how the woman in here trusted one of the family members of the Comescus. It was something which bothered him but he needed to let it go and work with Ioulia, not with Darius. He sighed, then said "Now... where were we?" He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully and she glanced at his fingers. Long and well taken care of.

A look of expectation and excitement appeared on her face. "So you made a decision?"

He shrugged. "If we could go through names or photo's? I'd like to know if there's anyone involved I know or who may recognize me."

"Right," she said as she took the laptop from its case. "I suppose the network is secure in here?"

Callen nodded. He was pretty sure Eric and Nell were listening too and because he didn't want to startle her, he figured he'd better inform her. "Our analysts are in control in here as well, Ioulia, so don't be shocked if they interrupt."

From behind the screen her bright eyes caught his and she dipped her chin just slightly. "Get that." She paused a second and said "You look tired. Had a bad night?"

"That's none of the business we're going through, is it?"

It wasn't spoken in a cold voice but his reply made her flush and she sighed, coolly adding "Scuze, I shouldn't mind indeed."  
She turned the screen of her laptop so Callen was able to see what she wanted to share.  
Ioulia Anghel returned her attention back to what she could show on screen, all business like right now. "This is what I have when it comes to pictures," she said.

He noticed she was impersonal now.  
"There are some names I caught as well," she added hurridly and she mentioned four Romanian names as well as three which were American.

Relieved now, Callen felt most tension leave. "None of them seem familiar and it goes for the names as well."  
He got up and pushed the button to contact his team.

* * *

_Feel free to leave your review!_

Kni®benrots


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**-The Sting-**

* * *

Author's note: in these crazy days with this spreading Corona disease I sure hope everyone stays as safe and healthy as possible. Perhaps there is a moment you prefer to do nothing but read and in case you don't know what to do: just leave me a review or any kind or important message.

And as ever, enjoy the read!

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_Relieved now, Callen felt most tension leave. "None of them seem familiar and it goes for the names as well."  
He got up and pushed the button to contact his team. _

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' Boatshed **

Eric's face appeared on the screen. "Yeah, what's up, Callen?"

Without paying too much attention to what Callen saw on screen he asked "Hey, Eric, could you give a final check on the names I just sent you and let us know as soon as possible?"

"Okay. Right, hang on... gimme a few minutes. The systems will go through the names you just gave. Are you sure there aren't any pictures? It'd be a lot easier if I'll could let facial recognition software scan photo's."

He gave a sidelong glance at Ioulia's face and she nodded a reply before she swiveled her laptop a bit so the two of them were able to have a closer watch.

"We'll be on that too, Beale."  
He changed a chair so he sat nearer and both of them studied all she had in her files closely, without too much to discuss so far. After going through several video feeds Callen felt how the personal whirl during a late night influenced his concentration.  
For a second or so he slouched back in his chair, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to focus on everything he knew so far. There was the faint smell of his coffee and something sweet and floral — no perfume, but most probable soap or lotion. It fit an innocent woman. He opened his eyes. Her fingers were still going over the keys and he wondered what her drive was.

As if she read his mind her soft voice sounded "It's not the best quality, but I had CCTV camera's film these guys who entered my so-called office. They were up to make an appointment with me, asking if there were some young girls for some 'fashion shoots."

He wondered how much it mentally took from her to be this deep in this dirty cover op, then leaned closer to study the gritty pictures on her screen.

"Callen!?"  
Now he looked up, hearing Anna's shrill voice coming from the other side of their headquarters.

"What is shé doing in there with you?" Anna demanded.

Callen's gaze went from Anna's face, an intense stare through the screen to where she probably saw Ioulia Anghel sitting very close next to him.  
"What do you mean?"

"She… She works with him! With Comescu! Do you KNOW what she does?" Anna sneered.

There was a sigh of embarrassment next to him and he noticed how Ioulia was blushing slightly now she knew and noticed how more eyes from Ops looked at them.

"Listen, Anna, I know all about that. This part of this mission is between special agent Ioulia Anghel and me," Callen calmly explained. This time he chose to pronounce her name like he'd heard the others use it, 'Julia Angel'.

The blonde woman nearly hissed "She runs a whorehouse and you…"

"Anna, please... perhaps you can help Nell and Eric?"

"Anna?" Ioulia now turned her face to the screen and assessed the other woman. "We all do what we have to do, and maybe you're troubled by the way I work. Let me assure you that it's been not easy at all. Just trust to it I've been upright. You know that sometimes good people have to do the bad things, but please, you all can trust me."

It felt like ages but in fact it were only a few uncomfortable moments when both women were silently staring at each other.  
Then the boatshed's door shut close nearby and Sam's deep baritone came from behind them "G?"

"Yeah, in here," Callen said, still witnessing Anna and Ioulia and he didn't look up. He did not see the deep dimple in Sam's cheek who was used to how most girls grew up with venom like he witnessed right now.

"What's going on in here?" Sam wanted to know.

The woman who sat this close to his partner changed her attention from the stare of Anna Kolcheck at Ops to him, the new visitor.  
Anyone who'd meet this woman would be distracted by her looks. Painters from the past and fashion photographers nowadays would probably be over the moon when they'd be able to use a face like hers. Yet uniformed like this, she appeared to be very formal, and while he caught her glaring at Anna she was more like an unpredictable wild cat. On the other hand, in the way she leaned close towards Callen there was a sense of sweetness, or even more. There was warmth and strength and protectiveness and perhaps delicacy at the same time.

"Ioulia and I were going through all the possibilities someone may know me from the past," Callen said. "And Anna figured Ioulia perhaps knows too many bad people."

"She thinks I've worked on the bad side of the law and with too many criminals and therefore I can't be trusted," Ioulia stated, her chin up and suddenly showing self-consciousness. "And you know what? You and your co-workers need to discuss that matter without me around."

She closed her laptop in the same move as she got up. Then she adjusted the skirt of her uniform and let her hand rest lightly on Callen's wrist. The contact made him concentrate on her message only.  
"Astept mesajul tau, agent Callen, pentru ora 8 diseară." [I'll wait for your message, agent Callen, before 8 PM].

Her large, light eyes locked on his, a certain intensity in it which captivated him for a moment. She blinked several times, took her cap, put it on and straightened her back. She smiled at Callen and nodded a greet in Sam's direction before she left.

Seconds after the outside doors closed, Sam repeated his question for Callen "What was that all about, G?"

Callen shook his head and pushed a button to disconnect the lines with Ops before he also switched off his microphone.

"What..." Sam said as he slowly shook his head.

"Look, it's complicated," Callen started. "Anna shows up, tells me I'm in danger because Darius Comescu is in town. She met him as Reznikov in Cuba too and it seems she and Joelle chased him ever since. Now Ioulia, on the other hand…" He got up for a refill of coffee and without words, he offered Sam a mug as well.  
"Ioulia," he continued, "says Darius worked as her informant for the past couple of weeks. And she trusts him. Told me it was Darius who hinted she needed to contact me."

"C'mon G… He's a Comescu. Who says he didn't use her to find you?" Sam nearly yelled.

He should've know better.

The sapphire blue eyes of his friend clouded and Callen's jaw jutted with the usual stubbornness. "She's a federal agent, buddy, like you and me. And I checked and digged into the systems. So far, she's been cooperative with the team you're be working with. And everything she told me is valid."

"But Anna…" Sam tried, reluctantly.

"Anna worked for the CIA ever after she recovered from the gunshot wound she suffered in Cuba. Heck, she works with Joelle, how about that? But she never set foot on American soil afterwards since she's still a fugitive. I…"

"You trust her? Trust them, I mean, Anna and Jo?"

Callen jutted his chin "Of course I do!" He rubbed his eyes and huffed a soft chuckle. "Got the feeling they both want to protect me from getting hurt."

"Told you before, you're far too attractive for the women. Even my mother—"

"Shut up, big guy. Thing is, I trust both of them. And I trust Ioulia Anghel too. And for once, I want to get this thing over with. I've made my decision you see, 'cause priority number one should be what agent Anghel keeps mentioning. This trafficking ring oughto be stopped Sam, as soon as possible and preferably before they all set up their market somewhere in town. Those kids…" he sighed. "We need to keep them safe. So I trust you to go and have my back. Got this feeling we need to get going any time tomorrow. Nell needs some time to create the right cover too, and perhaps I 'll need to create a fake network in town as well. We'll nail them all, okay?"

Sam bit back another comment about Comescu and although his gut feeling told him Callen was right about handling this case the way he wanted to, there still was something he couldn't quite lay his finger on.  
"We'd better just log in the systems again, you think? See if Beale found anything which may prove you wrong. Or what if we'd check in live. I'll drive you," Sam offered.

Callen shook his head. "I'll just hop into the rental, dented and rusty Hyundai. Told you, my CIA alias is 'the Ghost'. Car like that works well with me as it practically goes unnoticed when it comes to driving around the freeway." A half smile appeared on his face. "Gotta live up to being the legend, right?"

"We're NCIS, G. No longer CIA."

"None of the agencies is about driving in Bond like vehicles either Sam. Told you before, special projects means we're supposed to stay as low as possible. Not—"

"Blah-blah-blah," Sam interrupted, clicking the shiny keys of the Challenger in front of his friends face and chuckled "See you in a minute or so."

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

**-The Sting-**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Author's note: too long a gap between this and the previous chapter, which means you may or may not have missed the update. So sorry for that. In these days of what seems to be a worldwide lock-down I still am working in public, trying to stay sane and safe, and hoping to be able to tell anyone around the same. Manic times, incredible mind-boggling, manic days when I'm hardly at home to spend time with the ones I love most.

Anyway, this chapter is written. Enjoy the read!

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_"__See you in a minute or so," Sam chuckled. _

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS Headquarters **

The ride from the Boatshed to their headquarters was a short one, and Sam was right, as ever: he arrived first and beat Callen.  
Callen didn't really care, after all he found the time to let his thoughts go. The small parking lot next to the mission was taken by the all too familiar Dodge Challenger and one of the standard NCIS' issued Fords. It was what he expected and he parked the car he across the street, at a parking which actually was used by visitors of the small supermarket and one of the best coffee shops he knew of.

None of his team were around in the bullpen. He put his bag next to the desk which was considered as his and booted up his laptop. Once it was done, he let google do some searches and after some moments he nodded to himself rather satisfied. He closed the laptop and considered he was ready to meet the others who most probably were at Ops.

Much to his surprise he met with only Sam and both analysts.

"So you showed up, captain slow," Sam said when he saw Callen entering.

He ignored the remark of his partner. "Grigori Volkov," Callen stated. With his famous half smile he nodded to the small red haired information analyst. "Could you use this name in any paperwork and cover story please, Nell?"

Nell tilted her head only slightly. "Russian? I thought we were talking of Romanian?"

He shrugged. "Could be, but still I figured this makes sense as well. If any of the persons Ioulia mentioned hear another typical Romanian name they may be more curious to find out who that person is. I could easily go for a Russian character, right?"

"Grigori Volkov. So, what else do you need, Callen?" Practical as ever, Nell had taken her tablet and started typing without looking up.

"Thinking of a bank account, tracing back to let's say Russia, Moldova, Cyprus, the United Kingdom and Panama, vice versa. Not untraceable, but someone ought to do quite a background check to find the origins. Wolgograd sounds like a nice hometown for Grigor Volkov, I'd say. Usually living in… let's say Cuba. Rather near to Haiti. Enough Russian living at the island of Cuba and again, easily reached from the States as well. And of course doing business with several rich and famous, in the VS, in Russia and in Romania. Preferably something awful which involves too young girls… or boys."  
He swallowed away the disgust he felt. This is what could happen with the children who grew up in poverty or with those who live in orphanages. It could've happened to the ones he grew up with.

"Thinking of going lone wolf, are you?" Eric chuckled. He'd been silent so far, staring at a message on his tablet.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked Eric rather briskly.

"Well, ehm… well… Callen?" Eric started stammering. "Ehm… I mean, Volkov means Wolf. Right? Callen?"

Callen had only listened to half of what his coworkers mentioned, but now he heard Eric mention his name twice he raised a brow. "What was it you said?"

"Wolf. Volkov means wolf." Eric repeated.

Callen nodded. "You're right about that, Beale. But it's a common name in Russia. I like it. Same goes for Grigori. Sounds like Grisha."

"In fact, Mr. Callen, Grisha is a diminutive of Grigori, meaning the watcher, the vigilant. Which by all means, Mr. Callen, is what I expect you to be. Vigilant. This is a mission you already decided to accept, I understand?"

She'd entered the operations center stealthy as ever and Callen shook his head, this time a grin on his face. He turned around to address the experienced small woman he still considered as the closest to family. It had always been that way, even though his father had re-entered his life, as well as the half-sister who refused to accept him in her life.  
"Hetty…" he started.  
How come he wasn't surprised to see how Anna stood close to the operations manager, a skeptical expression on her face. He jutted his jaw and paused a beat.  
"Of course I do understand. And yeah, as long as Sam and the others will have my back, I'm going in. Nell in here will need another few hours to work on my cover."

"Remember Callen that I came to warn you last night?" Anna now asked. Less aggressive than what he'd seen from her when she addressed Ioulia.

He nodded and sighed "Warn me about Darius. Yes, agent Anghel told me about him."

There was a certain reluctance in the blonde woman's eyes. "Callen I… Cuba was terrifying. We, well, Joelle and I found your father. It cost a lot, and you know that. There was this man, this Comescu. And you —" She shook her head and swallowed several times. "You told me, explained to me before how this family was after one thing only, to destroy your family. Which means you. And I thought.. we… I think… How come you trust someone who trust a Comescu?"

All eyes were on him and he heaved a deep sigh. "Darius Comescu has known all the time that I live in Los Angeles. It would have been too easy for him to get to me, if he ever planned to do so. He could've contacted Garrison, the man who raised him. But he never did. Nor my father, nor me. Until now."

"G… Until now, through this Homeland special agent you never met before either. You hardly ever trust any strangers and now…"  
Sam then shook his head, letting his gaze go over his best friends distant stare. And then he knew that discussing this with Callen would only make his friend more stubborn to carry on. He then shook his head. "Well, Nell, make this the best cover ever."

"Will do so, Sam."

Callen just nodded and walked out of the operations center, passing the others. He'd need only a few minutes alone.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He leaned against the white plastered outside wall of their headquarters, next to the sign 'condemned Pacific water station' where he rested his left foot against the same wall as well, breathing in some fresh air. In times like this, he doubted his job as a team leader. He remembered the times when he worked alone, with only himself to count on. He huffed a little and shook his head to himself. This time, he only hád to count on his own abilities. He was the one who had to go in alone.  
Sure, his team, a few Homeland agents and probably the FBI would have his back in case anything would go wrong, and once the deal was made, they were to make the arrests. And he sure knew how to trust his team.

"Callen."

The heavy wooden door fell close behind her. And he should've known it was Anna who was the first one to look for him.

She licked her lips and lowered her chin a little which made her eyes more innocent than he remembered. "You are offended by the way I showed up, are you?"

He locked eyes with her and after a short pause he nodded. "You know, I've been looking for you. Pulled as many strings as possible until, only recently, I discovered footage of you somewhere in Spain. At a building where several people were found executed."  
He shook his head. "Give me one good reason why I should trust the things you've been doing were legally? Right, I got the reason why you decided not to come back with us after getting shot in Cuba. I mean, you were a fugitive."

"I still am." Her voice was small this time.

"Anna, I know. And I get it you preferred to stay low. Back then, what was it, over half a year ago, longer?"  
Again, Callen shook his head. "But really, I've been back, looking for you. Taking two days off, plus a weekend. Talked to all the persons I know on the island, including CIA and the informants I remembered. Imagine my surprise to find out only recently how you fled the island only two days after us. Surprised to find out you stayed in Florida for over a month before you disappeared again, without contacting me, nor your father, whatsoever. Then last night you show up at my place all business like, telling me I am in danger, leaving again, only to inform my operations manager about your doubts. Without involving me. Without wanting to really —"  
He started pacing but stopped to face her again. He needed to stop to reproach her, to be bitter.  
"Anna… I'm glad to see you again. That is what I wanted too, you know."

Her mouth opened, closed again and then she smiled at him, that lovely, broad smile he missed so much.  
"Callen… are you serious? I thought —" she swiped a lock of flyaway hair behind her ear with her left hand and continued "I doubted you would want to be seen with me. A fugitive. A killer. I… I thought you resented me."

"We could try and work this out. I would like that" He reached out for her arm and gently touched it. "But Anna, it has to be after this case is closed. I really have to make this work. I have to focus. And whether you are right or wrong, well, I'll find out later. The agent I discussed this with, she's not a rogue agent. She believes in what she does. And these kids, well, we need to try and save them. You can't be in this team, and right now, today, tomorrow, I will simply have to ask you to step aside. Observe from Ops if you need to, but please, don't intervene".

Her smile was still there, less confident. But Callen preferred this smile – it was sincere right now. "Be careful," she said.

He nodded, inhaled and went back inside.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Some hours later, his cover was solid. How she did it, Callen never knew, but Nell handed him a passport with several stamps as if he'd been visiting several countries. Same for a drivers license, roebels and dollars and a credit card.

"If you check the balance on the account, you'll find that there's over three million to spend. Credits and debits all evident and traceable to four years back in time."

"Great work Nell, Callen nodded gratefully."

She beamed with the compliment of the senior agent. "Thanks, Callen." She handed him a paper file, thin, but it would be thorough, he knew. He took the paper and went down the stairs to his desk, letting the file fall on the desk.

The only one who looked up was Anna, who'd taken a seat behind Deeks' desk.

"So…" she started talking Russian now, "Grigori Volkov. How do you plan this action?"

Callen sent her a half smile. "Leave it up to me, Miss Kolcheck. Perhaps you can find me something suiting from the wardrobe, while I am going over the case once again with special agent Anghel."

He noticed how her face clouded. "Can I join you?"

"You know that wouldn't be wise Anna."

"You can't focus when I'm around."

He felt his face grow warmer. "It's not what I was talking about. Yes, I need to focus and no, I don't need a catfight. You stay in here, work with the nerds or join Hetty, whatever. But please, don't try and distract me, distract us, in any way."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Venice Beach Boardwalk **

From behind one of the clothing racks of some kind of boutique Callen noticed how Ioulia Anghel came walking his way, her gaze going over the crowd.  
Callen simply watched her. She wouldn't see him unless he wanted her to. Right now, he needed to know for sure if she wasn't being followed. And if she was, whether it was deliberate and by someone he may recognize from one of the agencies.  
Yet, there was no-one. He watched until she finally sat down in a chair of the place they were supposed to meet. Just like him she blend in this neighborhood where hippies, business-people, sun- or sportslovers and tourists mixed perfectly. Right now, Ioulia Anghel was dressed in a loose blouse over a tanktop, combined with a jean bermudas. Nothing too obvious. If she wanted to stay unseen, like he figured she wanted right now, she had the ability to hide in plain sight. Some sunglasses. A book. A small purse.  
He walked past the table and he had no idea if she saw him passing by or not. Callen decided to wait another few minutes and continue to observe the surroundings. Nothing.

He eased a sigh and strode towards the table too.

It was then when she looked up, raising her brows and smiled. "Nothing?"

Callen sat down, grinning since he liked the attitude.

"You took your time, didn't you? Figured that tourist shop wasn't thát interesting," she matter-of-factly mentioned.

"Not my style indeed," he confirmed, the smile still on his face. "Good to see you. How about us grab and have some drinks to go and discuss the matter while we stroll along the beach?" He let his gaze go over the crowd again and added "I prefer not to be overheard. How about you?"

"Sounds okay," she agreed. "There's lots to talk about indeed, that is, if you made your final decision?"

While he paid for a coffee to go for himself and a bottle of water for Ioulia Anghel, Callen nodded. He handed her the drink and started walking, with her next to him. Then he started "Meet Grigori Volkov. You may want to guide him, let him know how to find the right people and at the right spot."

He met with an appreciative smile from the female agent.

"Well then, Mr. Volkov. Perhaps I can lead you through the details of the case that I know."  
And she started telling what she knew.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**-The Sting-**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals~]

* * *

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play with them. So far, I never heard any complaints from any of the directors or CBS.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading so far. The story is being written in bits and pieces and still, we're going to get there. Fun thing is that I already know where we're heading to, and you don't. I certainly hope you will like what is being presented in this chapter too. Please do share your thoughts!

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Venice Beach Boardwalk **

She took some more sips of water, sat down on a bench where she took off her shoes and motioned wordlessly toward the sand. He dumped the empty cup in a bin and followed her to the beach itself. She found a place where there was no-one around and decided to sit down in the sand. He stood there for a while, his gaze going over the waves that came and went, and finally sat down next to Ioulia.

After a few silent minutes she finally said: "You know, if I could, I'd come with you."

There was a mix of sincerity and compassion on her face, but Callen also noticed the sadness in her eyes.  
He gently touched her arm. "Ioulia," he started. "We'll get them out. You did what you could, so far. Just trust your people and mine."

She shook her head. "You are... your whole life you've been an agent. Used to read people, see through their lies or manipulation. The same goes for me. Still, your people… You will trust them, but I saw and heard they have their doubts about me. After all, they don't really know me and well, perhaps they have specific reasons to distrust me," she said with a wry smile. "Same could go for you."

"Like you said, I can read people. And I know Darius told you about me and my childhood. It was miserable and mean. That's why I do what I do," he explained.

She looked up at him, his blue eyes even bluer, perhaps because of the time of the day. He'd taken off his jacket as well and she admired his bare arms, strong and tanned. The stubble on his face which made him look tough, but then, there was a gentler side she now noticed too.

"You're — you all are dealing with scum, Callen. You don't know..."

"I can be scum too."  
There was a smirk on his face now and it fit with a bad boy-attitude. In a reflex she bent his way even more, her hand on his upper arm.

Callen was fascinated by what he saw. Her catlike eyes wide, in that strange color. This time she was wearing the slightest bit of make-up. The wind blew softly through her dark hair. 'She's beautiful,' he thought. Her mouth with those full lips... yet a pale skin, contrary to all those Californian women. Angelic...

And then Ioulia let her hand go from his upper arm to his neck and eventually let her hand go through his short hair, wearing the sweetest smile on her face when she pulled him just a bit closer and started to kiss him.  
For a few seconds he gave in, captivated. Then he broke the kiss, with a short groan.

"What's wrong?" She looked disappointed, still she wanted to know.

"I can't... I mean..."

"There's someone else," she immediately understood.

Callen's reply came after a second of hesitation "Yes," he said, "Anna. She showed up only recently and we... well."

"She's not your partner?"

"Define 'partner'," Callen replied with a short shrug. "No, not in the way you figure. My usual partner, the one I work with, is Sam. The big guy, you met him earlier. Anna… well, we have another kind of relationship. It's rather complicated, I think. It's what the others think as well. Never mind, like I said, I know why I do what I do."

She got on her feet again, brushing off the sand from her short trousers. "Anna… she's upset about you're working with me. Why? Because I'm female? Because of my undercover job?"

"All of that. And maybe… Because you're Romanian. Ties to Comescu. Maybe," Callen agreed, his voice softer now. He slowly breathed out, following the waves which were slowly and softly splashing into the sand. He softly breathed out and said "She knows too how… how I've been hurt by this Comescu family too, and perhaps she's just worried. But well, I'm a grown man and know how life goes."

"Are you saying she doesn't want you to do this? Then… Perhaps you should just walk away from this mission. It's getting far too personal. You need to focus or just let… Well, I wouldn't know if anyone else could take your place." There was more compassion in her voice than one might expect, especially from someone whom Callen didn't really know or who knew him.

He shook his head. "I've made the right decision, Iuolia. I'm going to do this anyway. I trust my team."  
This time, he gently let his hand lay on her shoulder and he added "And I do trust you as well. Your information is welcome and I'll gladly use it."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Next afternoon || Los Angeles || NCIS Headquarters **

The button-camera, one of the office's best items, was sending in feed from the pale blue blazer jacket which Callen wore over a marine blue shirt. A tie in the same color as the jacket and a neat khaki pant completed the business man's appearance.

"And… he's in," Eric spoke. To the others at Ops it was obvious, since they were able to observe the camera feed that showed on the screens. His message was meant for the part of the team and the four other NCIS agents as well.

"So this will be some kind of auction," Anna mentioned.

Nell nodded and pointed at the locations where the other teams were at this very moment. "They will bust in once Callen starts bidding. More specific, when he says 'this one'."

Anna prodded "And what is his safe word? I mean, you can't be sure if hèr intel can be trusted, right?" Her words came out more accusing than the others were used to.

"Now, now, Miss Kolcheck... you of all people know that we should trust Mr. Callen's judgement. He is always on top of things and who thinks ahead." Hetty overheard Anna's words and was rather amazed by what the young woman mentioned.

"Oh, but I do trust Callen. But what if she, that other woman, provided him with misleading information? Anna replied stiffly.

"The other woman… Miss Anghel. You should know already she's a trained agent, used to work undercover on her own. Exactly like you, one might say. Perhaps our team could have clarified it to you during the time you spent in this office already. And about my agent, well, I find Mr. Callen persuasive about this case which is most certainly not to annoy you, Miss Kolcheck. Nor is there any reason to be envious of the attention he's showing towards these kids," Hetty mentioned. She then held up her hand as she noticed Anna was about to speak again. "Yes, dear. Mr. Callen does have a safe word."  
Hetty's gaze bored into Anna and she added "Mother. His safe way out is 'mother'. And his team knows."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Bel Air Road || Los Angeles **

In one of the company's Mercedes Callen had arrived at this mansion. Showing up at this place at a fancy time meant that several cars were parked already. He handed the key card of the car to one of the personnel who were paid to move cars to another part of the property, checked his clothes and devices and entered the main entrance.  
He didn't really know what to expect at this meeting and he sure as hell would have preferred to be with his team right now. They'd be nearby, he knew. After all, they'd gone over the plan for what've seemed to be hours and hours.  
Eric was the one who'd chosen the angles from which their own people would gather – an empty spa-like outbuilding. FBI and Homeland found another place, opposite of the road and barely able to see the entrance of this mansion from behind the bushes and walls which were supposed to keep any curious visitors eyes off what was going on on the private property. At least twenty men and women as a back-up.  
Unseen, but whenever he needed, they'd bust in.

Sure, going undercover was one of his best qualities. But then, these kids, the girls and boys... would they be in time to get them out, sane and safe?

Lately, he was used to shoot his way in or out of the most dangerous places with his partner, dodging bullets, looking for terrorists and saving the innocent who mostly never realized they were endangered. Not only in their own country but too many times fighting their way in and out countries everywhere on the planet.  
But now... a case on their own turf and it brought back memories of all the damaged kids and youngsters he'd seen. Lived with and as one of them and he knew all too well how damaged a kid could be. Just because of that he would focus.

He looked around, breathed out slowly and managed to be the self-assured Russian businessman. He put down his briefcase and accepted a drink from a waitress. It looked like a whisky and it was. He slowly swirled his drink in the glass and nipped a bit. Not the cheapest liquid, but he knew he needed to keep his head in the game.

He let his gaze go over the men and women, all around since they somehow knew about this trade. It actually surprised him to see more women than he'd expected, but then when he thought about all of the foster parents he'd seen and heard of, there were just as many women who never showed a caring side at all.  
All kind of languages sounded too. English, of course. But there was French and Spanish too, Russian and Romanian.  
This was what modern slave trade looked like. Buying people with the money they had. Trading lives, ruining lives. Sly faces. Or stoic, empty gazes. People who could buy lives, destroying futures.  
Callen didn't even want to think about the kids themselves. Kids who expected to come to the city of angels, perhaps as models or actors indeed, or hoping to find a job which would enable them to find a place off the streets. However, he knew they'd be slaves. Most probably sex slaves.  
He took a swig from the brown liquor, longer than he wanted to, just to swallow away the nausea that he felt at what was to come next. And the minute Callen had the feeling that most of the young girls and boys, teenagers, would be somewhere in this main building, he would give the sign to end this sting operation.

Callen moved from where he stood to another part of the large room. From several undercover jobs he was used to blend in among this society of the rich and famous. Still, he always felt he played a part on a bad show. He slowly turned around, making sure that the analysts at the office could identify other guests.  
"Pierre Mereux," he murmured, as he expected the camera to catch the sophisticated man in an expensive suit and a remarkable grey mustache. His comment would be loud enough to be heard in Ops, he knew. The small microphone was attached behind the knot of his tie. Mereux was supposed to be one of the contacts in Haiti as well, perhaps the organizer of this happy little party.  
He clenched his jaw for a second, wishing he could leave. Although this whole charade would be over within the hour, Callen also was aware there would be scenes he preferred to skip. Another sip from the whisky, slowly breathing in and out, making sure nobody would notice his wrath for all the things which were never prevented. His team wouldn't understand, although Hetty probably would, how this was his weak spot.

He also recognized some of the Romanian men Ioulia mentioned the other day and mentioned their names too.  
From one of the side rooms, shrill and fake laughter sounded and he glanced around the corner. Too many beautiful young women, using too much alcohol and pills. He felt for them too. This city could make you or break you and for a few contemplating seconds he realized that without Hetty, he would have ended up as one of the persons at that very wrong side of the law. Hell, probably not be alive anymore. Fate had twisted and worked in his advantage, after all.

He turned to another quiet part of the main room where more people had gathered. Callen was pretty sure the small camera would pick up more people which Eric and Nell would check upon. Those who were known for their illegitimate business would be sued. The ones responsible for organizing this business arrested.

"Another drink, Sir?" One of the waitresses addressed him and for a slight moment he was distracted.

"Mr. Taymis?" A man had approached and Callen was absolutely sure he'd seen him before.

'Gordon Taymis' was one of the aliases of a long time ago. He remembered, but Callen managed to keep his expression blank as ever. He shook his head. "Njet... I arrived in this city only some days ago," he said with an accent as thick of any Russian he knew.

The other man's brow furrowed at Callen's denial, then shook his head. "Sure, you are Taymis. You were the one that was introduced to us by a good looking barmaid a couple of years ago. In here to make another nice score, are you? With some 'new money'" The man used his fingers to emphasize the last two words and so he really knew of the counterfeit of years ago.

o)o)o)o)o)o)

At Ops it took a while to settle down the stress. "Ah, man!" Eric exclaimed. "How come this guy shows up in here?"

"It's been ages ago. And I mean... Callen changed quite a bit, hasn't he?" Nell looked at the others and nervously giggled. "We all have."

"What does this mean? He's been made, right? And you think it's funny?" Anna snapped at both analysts.

Nell shook her head. "Not funny. But Anna, he'll know how to talk his way out. No way this will endanger his op."

Still, she was utterly dumbfounded to hear a voice she didn't recognize addressing the agent.

o)o)o)o)o)

"Grigori, moy brat! Here to pick some of the most beautiful fresh flowers too?"

Callen spun on his feet. Who else did he know who'd be around in here?

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Any reviews will be very welcome, of course_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**-The Sting-**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals ~]

* * *

Author's note: Thanks to those who read and reviewed the previous chapter, it's really appreciated!To me, it's good to hear some feedback and to know that writing is not something I do for my own pleasure only. I guess it goes for every writer! Lately I figured I might just as well quit, since there aren't that many readers who appreciate the work which I put in it. Anyway, to those who read and review: Like you, I have been wondering whom we're going to meet next. Never mind, we all know Deeks, Sam and Kensi are around, so what can possibly go wrong?!

Let just find out; will you just join me?

* * *

Disclaimer: Of course, any resemblance with actual persons, places, buildings, and addresses are purely coincidental. This means that names or incidents which come by in this story are simple fictitious. All, except for the ones who were made up by CBS, Shane Brennan and R. Scott Gemmill**.**

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS Headquarters **

"Reginald Rand," Nell said. She worked fast. In the same minute that someone mentioned Callen's former alias which actually was already over eight years old, she had opened a digital file that contained all the photos of everyone involved. She repeated "Reginald Rand. He was one of the guys who hired Taymis, Callen's alias. In return, Gordon Taymis provided the right paper for printing illegal dollars. Rand went down as an accomplice for five years only."

Eric let the information sink in for a short minute, then nodded and said "For being around in a human trafficking case like this one, he'll lose his free life again. Another one to pick up who isn't that innocent, guys. Picture will be in your phones," he mentioned to the agents in the field.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Bel Air Road || Los Angeles **

_Callen spun on his feet. Who else did he know who'd be around in here?_

For those who didn't know him would never notice how his jaw hardened, nor feel the rigidity in his shoulder muscles. 'Fresh flowers'; he hated the comparison that was made with these few words.  
He managed a faint smile on his face and nodded politely. Keeping his voice soft enough he breathed a surprised "You!"  
In that single word there was exasperation, true, although he did his utmost not to show it. Had Anna been right, was there foul play in the end?

A polite smile appeared on the other man's face as well and he actually addressed both Callen and Rand with a very thick accent. "Indeed, Volkov. Long time, no see. When was it we last met?"  
He slowly nodded twice as if he remembered and added with the same smile "You're here for some 'krasivyye devushki', some uhm, pretty girls again, right?"

Callen replied with a smirk. "Da, Darius. You're here to find some too, or sell some pretty young ones this time?"  
He was glad he wasn't hearing what his colleagues probably shouted.  
A first observation of this man Anna warned him about, but whom Ioulia spoke highly of, he tend to choose for the positive side.

"So, Volkov..." Darius Comescu pronounced the name aloud, emphasizing it with a challenging grin.

By now Rand, the third man, stepped back and apparently believed he had the wrong man in front of him. He shook his head and said "You're not the person I thought you'd be."

Callen hummed and shrugged in the direction of Rand.  
Meanwhile he wondered why he hadn't thought of this last name, Volkov, he chose himself. After all, both his father, Anna, Comescu and Callen himself had suffered quite a bit from Pavel Volkoff, back in Cuba.

Comescu nodded slightly and Callen felt the tension leave his body when Rand turned away from them both.

Callen glanced around to see if anyone else paid attention to them. Seeing that was not the case, he glared at the younger, dark haired man in front of him, desperately wanting nothing else but to make this case work out the way he wanted and break up the ring Ioulia Anghel told him about. His own team provided the right back-up so he could get in this auction.  
There was this part of his emotions which desperately wanted to hate Darius Comescu. But then, why? Because some freaking ancestor with the same last name, Comescu, killed his mother? Not this man's work. Because his father decided to revenge this murder and killed the other man's parents? Nothing Darius Comescu wanted. Because... well, why and how would he envy someone who became an orphan as well? He heaved a deep sigh.  
It was his father's doing, choosing to raise Darius as his own son, while he never came to look for his own flesh and blood. But to keep his head clear, he didn't want to bother about personal issues he still felt thinking of what his father had done.  
He wanted to ignore the fact that he himself suffered a shitty youth. All he wanted right now was to prevent a same situation for the kids Ioulia Anghel told him about.  
Callen let his gaze rest on the other man and asked Darius Comescu, again in the Russian language and keeping his voice low "Did she send you?"

Comescu just raised brows. "She? You mean Ioulia." Again, a tempting grin showed on his face. "I knew you'd believe her."

Unable to hide his frustration on the other man's remarks, Callen hissed "Listen… Just back off if you're around to stall me and let me do the things I'm in here for. And to let you know, there's an army of different teams outside, in position, to bust in. If you decide to play me, I've got no problems denying I know you."

"ослабить, ease off… I'm just a middleman," Darius mentioned casually. "That's how we wanted them to see me."

"We? Them?"

"The group we discovered back in Haiti. I mean, I went through this matter with Ioulia. I decided to play the game with the other men. All from Romania, or immigrants from that country. When I heard they were moving their business to this city" — his arm making a large circle as if to show the surroundings — "the city of angels, you call it, da?"  
There was no response coming from Callen and so Darius added "We decided it would be best to stay involved and keep the act going."

"So, did she send you in?" Callen repeated.

This time Comescu shook his head. "She doesn't know I'm around. No."

Again Callen sighed as he recognized the sincerity and perhaps even the same focus he felt, in Comescu's eyes.  
"Is there anything else you want to share?"

A short nod and a pause, then Comescu motioned to a set of stairs which sank down in the marble floor next to the main entrance. "27, girls and boys, aged 11 to 18. Caged. Until it's their turn to be shown in public, and bids are to be made."

"Thanks," he said. He grabbed his briefcase and put his glass on a high table. He moved a feet or so in the direction Comescu gestured.

"ждать!" [wait!] Darius grabbed his arm. "What are you going to do?"

Callen smirked, took a glass from another table and poured its contents over his jacket. The red wine left exactly the mark he wanted. Sure, Hetty would be upset he ruined the expensive clothes on purpose, but she'd forgive him in the end.  
He let out a mad curse in Russian, looked around and stomped towards the stairs.

Darius stood for a second and said aloud "I'm so sorry!"

He admired Darius' improvising, something he did not expect. Still, Callen did not respond and Darius followed in a hurry, and speaking in a low voice "What are you going to do? Damn," he hissed. "There are armed men down there."  
He kept following Callen, again apologizing loudly.

Halfway the stairs, Callen halted. He looked over his shoulder and ahead. No cameras, nobody to overhear them. Then turned to Comescu and said in a hushed voice "I'm armed too."

"Wait!" Darius shook his head. "Impossible. They've checked. You passed cameras, a detection system. Just… don't go in there."

A quick switch and the handgrip of his suitcase was loose, suddenly showing what it really was, a small firearm. Then the other part which for the eye was the metal part with a code-lock, was loose as well and he held a knife in his left hand. He dropped the small case down the stairs and waited if somebody would turn up.  
Since that wasn't the fact, all alert he now descended the stairs. Much to his surprise, Darius followed him in the same stealthy way. When was it Callen decided he had to trust this man?

It was dimly dark and by the feel of the cool air all around, he figured it was designed as an underground place to park several cars. The whole basement area hadn't showed on Eric's blueprints of the property and if it stretched out underneath all of the house, it was huge. A door, ajar, showed a faintly lit room behind it where he heard muffled and shuffling noises. And heavy footsteps as well. Several. He stood. Listened. The sound of three men walking. Probably armed guards. His camera would be mere useless in here. The microphone would not pick up his doubts, nor his thoughts.

He motioned his hand, the sign that was obvious to everyone around the world: 'halt'. He then shook his head and tapped Comescu on his shoulder and handed the small gun to the other man. Callen then reached for the remains of his small briefcase. Bulletproof. Only the part someone might have wanted to check contained some basic paperwork and a fake cheque book. A perfect precaution of his coworkers. Without a word he handed it to Darius, motioning to keep it in front of him in case of a shooting.  
Another assuring nod and he parted. For the first minutes now, it would have to do. Then he turned around the corner, his knife in his right hand.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nearby, Bel Air Road || Los Angeles **

It was pitch dark near the small greenhouse on the grounds behind the mansion where Sam sat with his left knee in the fresh grass and rested his elbows on his right knee. This way, he was able to keep the binocular perfectly in focus. So far, no guests showed up outside. He seriously doubted if they would, in the end. Perhaps they could scrawl closer to the mansion itself.  
Pros would be that in case of any emergencies, shooting or whatever, they'd be closer and therefor were able to rush in in a minute, if necessary. On the con, he was pretty sure that in this place, no sounds were picked up by any of the security systems. If they wanted to discuss anything right now or go through the planning once more, they could speak up free and without the risk of being overheard. Any closer to the house there might be cameras or mics.

"Sam?" As if Eric was scared his voice would sound too loud, it was a loud whisper now.

"What?"

"Seems like Callen changed position. He kind of cursed in another language and now there's static and faint signals only. As if something is interfering. I thought, perhaps, well, maybe he's come too close to electric wirings or something like that."

Sam hummed. "What exactly was he swearing about?"

"He ehm… he ran into someone he knows."

"No time for riddles, Beale."

"Comescu." Eric said. He paused a moment, expecting Sam to reply. Instead he heard a deep sigh. "Though the two of them were having a civilized conversation."

In the background Sam and the others heard Anna speak aloud. "Tell them to go in, Eric. Something is wrong."

This time, Kensi answered "Eric, did he use the codes for us to get over already?"

Eric shook his head and simply answered "No. But even if he did, I couldn't have picked it up."

The agents in the field were silent for another moment until Sam finally said "We wait. But we'll try to get closer to the mansion. Meanwhile you try to find out why you more or less lost the connection, Beale. Inform us as soon as you hear anything."  
He switched off his speaker too. Surely, Callen hadn't chosen two different ways out, went through everything with his team only to go lone wolf right now. Sam had worked with the man for over 12 years now and had learned to deal with the stubbornness of the lead agent.  
Still, it felt as if Callen had distanced himself right now. As if he had a premonition nobody else had. If only Sam knew why...

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Bel Air Road || Los Angeles **

He controlled his breathing like he hardly did nowadays and sneaked closer to where he heard the guards. If he was able eliminate them, it would be ever so easy to release these kids. And there had to be a way out, like there had been a way in for a cage or cages. He trusted that Darius Comescu's information was right. Heck, he even chose to trust the man himself, handing him a armed gun.  
If the man wanted, he could easily overwhelm him and get rid of him in a matter of one finger to pull the trigger. So far, so good.

Focusing on his next action Callen slowly crept closer. He was about to attack the first man when a message clearly sounded from a wireless radio device. It never mattered in which language the orders came, he understood that the auction would start without a delay – the first kids were supposed to be taken up to the largest room.

Just in time he was able to hide in the darkness, realizing there was no way he could warn Darius.

* * *

_Thanks a lot for reading. As ever, your reviews are very welcome!_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Sting**

**\- Chapter 10 –**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals ~]

* * *

Authors Note: Due to many issues, mostly personal, the time for writing seems to lack. Which worries me more than I can say. So, I decided to take a part of what I wrote so far, and upload this. A very short chapter indeed. Please feel free to leave a review, it really means a lot to me!  
Of course, names, streets, events: even if something seems to be like familiar, it truly is just my imagination. After all, how would I know?

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Bel Air Road || Los Angeles**

He was just in time to hide in the darkness. In the gloom he only had heard the persons pass by. Whether it was boys, girls and what age they were in, nor what kind of size the guarding men had, he had no clue. Actually, it was strange that there was no whining or screaming at all. As if the kids were gagged or something.

Callen kept his breath and debated what to do next. First of all, he realized there was no way he could warn Darius right now. If he decided to follow the two men who accompanied the first three kids up the stairs, he would be sure that Darius was okay too.

Back in the old days, he'd been working undercover for months and months and working alone was something he never feared. Nobody to rely on except for himself. True, a sting like this would last longer that way, but he always had trusted his own guts. Sometimes he longed back to those days. But then maybe he needed a more solid life. Working with his team fit better nowadays. Trusting other people never was his best virtue.  
This was a mission so short that it ought to be easy. Finding out there were people around he'd met before, especially Darius Comescu, was a different challenge he dealt with. Darius was quite a different character than his usual partner, but he could improvise, he was sure about that.

Right now he had some options. First of all, he could follow the men and the young people. And once he'd be in the large room again, he would start his bidding. In that case, he knew that in a matter of moments, the place would be crowded with agents and cops and then he'd lead them to this cellar and free the kids.  
The young people kept in here would be forced to work in places they would never see from the inside when they'd be born in this part of this city itself. Cheap workers in factories, pickpockets, perhaps sex workers. It infuriated him more than he wanted, and in his job he should never be affected by his emotions.  
Yet here he was, wanting more than ever to save young people from a live full of misery. Working with a man he would never have trusted because of his last name. His team actually would never trust him not to put a bullet in his own back.

On the other hand he could stay down here in this basement which was quite a labyrinth itself and try and free these kids. It ought to be the fastest solution. Two of the three or four guards had left. If there was one man or perhaps two men left, he figured he could easily eliminate them. Or actually, he knew for sure.  
Maybe the kids could tell him how they'd entered. After all, the best way out would be the same way they'd entered.

However, there were two reasons he decided to choose the safest way. First of all, when he would free these twenty-something kids, it may scare or excite them in a way that could alert anyone in the rooms upstairs.

It was easier and less dangerous to simply speak out some words aloud, knowing help was around in matters of minutes. The kids would be save anyway. Less suspicious for him, and up there he would be able to arrest the main players. Businessmen. Maybe some investors only. People who should never be able to be in an auction like this again.

So he opted for the best option, ascent, mix in the strange company of men and women from the US and several other countries. Not as special agent G. Callen. Grigori Volkov would come up, still bickering with Darius Comescu about spilling red wine on his suit jacket. Make a bid as soon as possible, so the teams would come rushing in. He could, meanwhile try and identify some of the leads.

At this specific moment he just wondered where to conceal his knife. It'd be probably be best if he just left it on one of the steps, pushed away from the eye as well as possible. That'd be the easy part. To Callen, it felt weird and empty being unarmed. All he could use at this moment was the small button-cam. He had some serious doubt though if it was sending clear enough footage in the darkness. Same went for the microphone.  
Not wanting to be overheard he just hushed his voice and said "An estimated 20 to 25 young kids are still in the basement. Two to three men guarding them. Not sure how many will be around exactly."

He expected his message would be picked up by Eric and Nell who would make Sam guide his own and the other teams to breach the building.  
He skulked alongside the wall, up the steps. Carefully, Callen listened to what happened in the large room and by the sound of it, the host of the evening was already taking bids. If it was for the first, second or third person, he didn't know.

Somehow, he had expected to see Darius waiting for him.

To continue their conversation.  
To continue their cooperation.

Darius was around indeed.  
But not in the way he'd expected. Flanked by two armed men, he awaited Callen near the stairs.

"Da," Darius mentioned with the thickest accent possible. "This man. I heard he was spying around. Saw how he went down the stairs. That is why I followed him."

This was not what Callen **anticipated** and it caught him off guard. He had to swallow away the feeling of being betrayed. Indeed, Darius had told him only this hour that he was around because he was trusted, as a middleman. What did that mean? Yet he caught a flicker of something else in the other man's eyes he didn't recognize at first. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he figured it was uneasiness.

Most probable, the host of this meeting had ordered his men to be as discreet as possible. With some nods and prodding of a pair of guns, the men moved towards the side room where he had seen the group of young people around.

Thoughts whirled through his head in a couple of seconds only.

How did those people fit in, else from being perhaps related to the owner of this place? When should he decide to give the pre-arranged message so all the agencies would rush in? Should or should he not give Darius the benefit of doubt? Had he been too careless after all? And why on earth had he not persuaded Anna into sharing some sort of vacation? Would he be able to do so in the end?

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Outside, Bel Air Road || Los Angeles **

In the dark, Sam, Kensi and Deeks had moved closer to the mansion itself. From their new position in the darkness of the night, they noticed the small groups of different people in the brightly lit house. They were still too far away to make who was who. All they had to work with was the intel which Eric or Nell gave them. They trusted the youngest team members would inform them the moment something changed. Then they'd be able to rush in and have their partner's back.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Outside, Bel Air Road || Los Angeles **

A young man – he assumed somewhere in his early twenties – and even younger girl laid on a couch, definitely not expecting other people entering this place. The man got on his feet immediately, the girl just sat as if struck by lightning, her eyes wide.

"You two, out," one of the armed man ordered them.  
The young man reached for his shoes and hurried away, not caring if the girl followed.

She still sat and watched in awe that four man, of whom three were armed, were in the same room as she was in.  
She swallowed away something which was fear, Callen noticed. He stood, not too sure what to expect. In his line of work he was prepared to face violence. He reached out to her, trying to convince her to get up and get out. Before he did, however, the same man who'd spoken before, used his gun as a extension of his fist. A first blow hit his head just under his ear. A second one in his back, at the height of his kidneys. He huffed out short breaths and groaned softly. These men knew how to eliminate someone.

"Down, on your knees. Hands above your head," the second man now said. Both men didn't seem to bother about the young girl as an audience.

"Who are you and what were you planning?"

Again, Callen knew he could fall back on his coping mechanisms. "Volkov. Grigori Volkov. I was looking for a, ehm, tualet." He used a thick accent again, and lowered his right arm to point at his jacket where he'd spilled the red wine as planned.  
This time, a foot hit him in the ribs and he groaned aloud.

He heard the gasps and sobs of the woman and he hoped and wished she would just get out.

"You were spying."

Then, a question which was addressed to Darius. "You caught him snooping around, didn't you?"

There was just a hum from Comescu, who squated down in front of him. In only a flash, Darius hit him with a flat hand in his face. His right hand. In the same second he shove the same small gun Callen had trusted him with, back in Callen's right hand.

Both men who once shared Reznikov as a same last name, Callen and Darius, started to improvise. Darius got his hands on a gun of one of the other men and Callen got on his feet as well.

The girl who'd sat on the couch now jumped up, scared. She stood, frozen, staring at the man in front of her who pointed a gun at her... or so it seemed. Callen read the terror in her eyes. She didn't know how her small posture was in the way, and that behind her someone was about to shoot, no matter if she was going to block the shot or not.  
He grabbed her around the small of her back and pulled her close, spun her so his body shielded hers. In the same move he never let his gaze leave the other man. He was faster. Trained. His bullet hit the man's hand while the bullet that was supposed to hit him ended up high in the ceiling.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

-"They're shooting, Sam!" Eric yelled.

As if they didn't hear.

They were on their feet already and Sam barked some orders in his coms to the other agents around to breach. Despite the fact Callen obviously had not yet used the 'save word' nor had had the chance to bid either, it was clear enough that where-ever shots were fired, Callen needed some help.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Darius had fired a shot at the other armed man, who was now down on the floor as well, bleeding.

"Left!" Callen shouted at him as he noticed how the first man had reached the gun of the man he'd shot and aimed to shoot Darius. Darius rolled around, in time to avoid a bullet. Callen fired again. In the background it was clear that the other guests were alarmed by the shots that were fired.  
It was silent in this room though, except for the loud sobs from the young woman.

"You good?" Callen asked her. His clear blue eyes rested on her face and let his left hand lean on her shoulder, knowing how this physical touch mostly worked best. "Better take another room and sit. Maybe you can call your MOTHER?"  
There, he said it, used the save word as agreed upon.

The girl was shaking, obvious for someone who wasn't used to situations like this. There was no response coming his way, but he knew there was no time to comfort her any longer.

There was a slow shake of the head but she at least did what he hoped, find a place where no badly wounded men were around.

"Thanks." It was just a statement from Callen. He too was shaky, but he knew there was no time to lick his wounds just yet. "Ready?"

Darius nodded. "Armed, and ready. We need those kids get out of here."

"We do. But I figure it won't be easy to get there right now. My team will burst in in a matter of minutes. We'd better lead them to where we need to go."

A small shrug came from Darius.

"These men won't do any harm no longer. But we can't go shooting around and go there, Darius," Callen argued. "A few minutes longer is no problem. There will be innocent people in there too, you know."

"No one in here is innocent. They know why they're around." His voice was cold now.

Callen disagreed. "How about the servants? The car boys?"

Darius Comescu lowered his head. "Right." He unlocked the gun he'd taken and put it behind the small of his back and underneath his jacket.  
"You look like crap," he stated when he faced Callen.

"Feel like crap too. Maybe we should do this differently. Lead me through this room like your prisoner. Pretend you overwhelmed me and lead me down the stairs. They do trust you, right?"

"Sure. Improvise." Darius shot a glance at both men. "Should or should we not cuff them?"

Callen shook his head. "Got this, Eric?" He spoke. We'll be near the front entrance. Darius is with me. If it takes too long, we'll be down the stairs."  
There was no response, of course not. But he trusted his co-workers to pass the instructions to the teams outside.

"You ready?"

Darius nodded, a grin on his face and aimed his gun at Callen. "Right, walk," he ordered.  
Like the short walk to this room, guarded by two men, the two of them walked back to where they came from.  
Some of the people in the large room were distracted because of the shots fired, some weren't, they were mostly focused on what they came for. But above all, Darius and Callen were allowed to walk by to the stair descent.

"Another two men," Callen whispered.

Darius took his gun again, aiming at the guards. Callen shook his head and laid his hand on the gun. He simply nodded to the left, motioning to the guard who stood there. Within one large step he overwhelmed the one on the right himself, chokeholding the man until he could easily lower him to the corner of the room. Much to his surprise, the second guard was still fighting Darius and so he figured he had to intervene himself.

"Go, go," Darius urged.

"You sure?" he asked.

There was a simple nod and so Callen hurried through the small corridor back to the larger hall. There were no other men guarding. Much to his surprise, there was no cage but a large sea container, which was easy to open.

Firstly, he walked around it and noticed the doors which could be opened by simply pushing a green button. Somehow, this part was so easy. He wondered, in the end, why they prepared this short stay in this mansion, undercover and all, so well. This was easier, so easy that in fact he could have walked in, go down the stairs, open the doors to outside, then the container and the young people were free. True, there needed to be some specialized agents to guide them to a safe place.

"Wait, Darius… If we get them out, they should not meet with those people who want to use them. Letting them go outside means we may loose them. Leave them in, for another half hour maybe, help could be on the way. I need to inform my people and I don't think from down here, I can reach them."  
He sighed. "I'll go up. You stay, in case someone enters. If you don't trust them, try to get out yourself. Don't use a gun, we don't know if they recognize you or the other way around."

He hurried back up, forgetting how he looked but on hight alert. "Eric? Eric, we'll need a team of youth workers this way."

Two men from the large room came his way and he realized that until the agents entered this house, he'd be some kind of pray for everyone in here. All he could was use his fists.

Miles away, Eric only heard the sounds through the coms and these sounds weren't good. He knew Callen was tough, but he was all alone. And so he shouted "Sam! ETA?"

"We're in already." The message from the dark voice of the senior agent sounded within the same second.

Some blows reached his body again, but then, from all sides, the yells 'federal agents!' sounded.

Heavy footsteps came his way. "You good, G?"  
With a few huffing gasps he got back on his feet and he wiped away blood which ran from his brow. "Sure. Everything under control buddy…"  
Still, he gladly sank down against a wall. He slowly breathed in and out and said "The kids. They're all downstairs. Darius, he's with them."

Sam simply nodded and motioned to the other teams. "We've got it all covered. Got that, Eric?"

The adrenaline filled sighs which he heard from the small team at the headquarters made him smile. "Let's get out, G. You look like crap."

And Callen just nodded "Case closed, right?"

Sam chuckled and said "Paper work is all yours too, buddy." He lead the way and both men left the building, grateful that all went so smoothly.

* * *

_To be continued. Will you come back for the rest of this story?_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Sting**

**\- Chapter 11 –**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals ~]

* * *

Authors Note: Thank you so much for leaving your reviews to the latest chapter. Ever so glad with those, it is what makes a writer happy! I sure hope you will appreciate this one as well!

* * *

Disclaimer: Of course, names, streets, events: even if something seems to be like familiar, it truly is just my imagination. After all, how would I know? And as for using the main characters of my favorite tv-show, NCIS-LA, I never heard chrisodonnell or llcoolj or any of the producers, Shane Brennan or R. Scott Gemmil, nor CBS, complain about this either.

Please, just enjoy the read.

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Bel Air Road || Los Angeles**

"Man, G... You sure you're okay?"

Callen looked up from where he'd sank down against a wall. Everywhere around there was hustling and bustle from armed and vested men and women, guiding away the guests of the night. He wanted to blink several times, then gave up and wiped away a sticky, warm trace from his right eyelid, knowing his brow would need stitches. His left eye was swollen and nearly shut closed, probably black already. A headache was spreading through his skull and actually, most of what went on around him was a blur. Probably a concussion. He let his gaze rest on his knuckles, raw and open.  
He exhaled and said "Been better. Getting too old for this, Sam."

A soft chuckle came from his best friend and partner for years who then shook his head. "Couple of hours in, have some drinks, some decent conversations... C'mon. Even Eric could've taken your place."  
Sam spoke to him like this on purpose, but he knew it wasn't true. No one could do this better than Callen. Still, it bothered him too that in this short period things had gotten out of hand and Sam was glad to see his partner was still alive, though beaten and bruised. He met with some men who were worse off though which was his partner's doing, he knew. And never mind the whining, he also knew Callen used to go under like this for months if necessary. And he still could.

With some groans, Callen got up slowly and less steady than usual, his right hand on his left side. He definitely wasn't in the best shape right now. His breathing hitched while getting up and Sam absolutely didn't like it. "The kids..." Callen started.

"Taken care of," Sam replied. "Hetty and Nell found them a temporary place in one of the YMCA's, the one near Van Nuys. They'll get the attention they need, it'll be a good shelter for the time being. Also some food and something to drink and rest. Next to that, there'll be personal talks with youth workers and shrinks. Idea is that they'll be able to go back to their own country, unless there are some with family in here already."  
Sam nodded to one of the ICE agents who guided a handcuffed person before he turned to his partner again. He knew that to Callen, the children and the care that was found, was very important.  
Callen was rubbing his temple carefully and Sam was pretty sure his friend would need some physical attention. Still, he knew that suggesting it never was the best way.

"School work overseas." Callen said. He knew that even by now, Eric may pick up everything he said. "It's a shell corporation, I suppose, with an anonymous bank account where the main players pose their money after they've, ehm, bought one of these young people. We need to find who's behind that name."

"Not your main concern at this moment," Sam said.  
His gaze switched from the mix of agents and uniformed men coming from all kind of directions. The place was completely taken over from the official residents, if any were around at all any longer and in fact, Sam wasn't even sure where they'd gone.  
"Heard you met Shane Scott Dorchester or Lorainne Gemill?" he asked.

Callen shrugged, despite the protest of his battered body. "Don't think we've been introduced."

"Young couple. Dorchester is the oldest son of the owner. Seems like he and his girl-friend rented out this place for this party."

He hummed. It could've been the young couple in the room where the shooting had taken place. "Don't think they're guilty of anything else but renting out this place?"

"The girl told Deeks what you did. About the shooting."

"So?"

"Damn, G... why you think you could win this, fighting this crowd on your own?" Sam practically barked.

His partner stared ahead and slowly inhaled.

'Well?"

"I knew you'd be here, Sam. And we just... I never expected so many of them," he sighed. He now looked up and added "Look, Sam, by now I know I'm not invincible, right? Our intel was right, we found these kids, your teams arrested those who were responsible for what happened. This sting worked, and you know that."

"You could have get yourself killed."

"But here I am. Didn't happen, big guy." The chuckle he let these words follow changed into a cough and never mind his words and attitude, a short wince followed as Callen reached for his ribs.

Sam shook his head. "Get your sorry ass up, G. Better get a check-up before she forces you."

"She?" For a second Callen was confused. Did Sam mean Anna?

"Hetty." A nod came from his strong and healthy friend. "Definitely a concussion. Your brow needs stitches and I notice there's more. I sure hope it's not this ribcage of yours that's bothering you. I mean, you let yourself beat up already in Mexico," Sam mentioned teasingly. He went on "So I'd better get you for a medical check-up, and you need some sleep afterwards. That is, if the little ninja won't have you debriefed first. Actually, I guess Hetty wants to know if you're up to doing some paper-work tomorrow morning."

"Oh, come on Sam. It's just some cuts and bruises, right?" Callen muttered. Still he was aware of the fact he wasn't in the best shape at the moment and he did give up. Maybe it was best if he just did what Sam suggested.  
"There's a car from the office-pool, a dark green Mercedes. Gotta take that one back."

"I'll drive. You got any keys?"

He reached for the key card and tossed it to Sam who caught it in mid-air. "No Hellcat around, I suppose."  
Callen knew Sam wouldn't give in this easy if he had his own car around.

In fact he was glad he could close his eyes for a while. He was blinded by the headlights of the cars on the freeway, the cars they met just as well as the one driving behind them. Not a good sign and although Callen hated to be at the ER he knew and felt it was necessary anyway. He didn't need a mirror

He leaned back and for the first minutes of the drive both men were silent. Callen was grateful that Sam didn't force him into social talk.  
It changed after Sam definitely was uncomfortable with the silence. "You know what scares me most, G?" he started.

Without opening his eyes, Callen felt a serious conversation coming. He didn't know if he was up to that. "Clowns," he simply stated.

"That too", Sam agreed.

Both men fell silent again and it wasn't what Sam envisioned. Since there was no other response coming from his partner he continued. "The thought of someone else in the passenger seat. Not you, because you'd had to walk into another bullet or knife simply because you'd decide to go lone wolf and not wait for the back-up."

Slowly, Callen opened his eyes again. "I thought your plan was to coach some green agents and put me in charge of the office. So you'd better get used to it."

It caused a soft grunt from Sam. "Not what I meant. I mean… That's something for the future, right? 'Cause actually I'd hate to lose a good partner too soon because one single bullet would end it all. Or it may enter at a wrong place and do damage which is way beyond you being able to fly a desk."

"Promise me to smother me with the hospital pillow if that were the case, will-ya?"

"Stop mocking me." Sam glanced sideward.

"Am not. It's reality. In fact I cannot imagine retirement at all but ending up as a vegetable must be worse."

Sam shook his head as he halted the Mercedes near the entrance of the Emergency entry of the nearest hospital. "Since to Hetty you seem to be some kind of precious orchid, get yourself in there and make sure the boss knows what you're up to, tomorrow morning."

"Not joining me then, are you?" Callen grumbled.

"You're a big boy, aren't you?" Sam chuckled. "No, don't worry. I need to find a parking spot and will join you to hold your hand, if necessary."

He huffed, opened the car door and got out of the car. Then he carefully stretched his limbs and stiffly entered the door of the UCLA Medical Center.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' office of special projects || half way next day || Ops**

Since an hour ago he had a pounding headache, but he preferred to keep that to himself and by now he didn't feel up to do any more paperwork.  
So he took another tablet from the strip of Tylenol he'd kept in his own locker and swallowed it away with a bottle of water he had on his desk. He gently rotated his neck before he decided to join the younger analysts, hoping to avoid Hetty's sharp gaze. Like he avoided Anna's call and apps, earlier this day.

He took one of the available tablets, uploaded some files and sat down on one of the office chairs in the corner of Ops and fast forwarded the camera footage.  
Callen then looked up and asked "Eric, have you seen Darius?"

"Nope. In fact, nobody did. The only confirmation he was around came from your coms and I'm quite surprised the two of you met in there," Eric replied. He turned away from the set of screens in front of him and swiveled his chair, glad he had the opportunity to let the computers do several cross searches and talk to the senior agent in charge himself.  
"Amazing job you did in there, Callen."

"Thanks," Callen mumbled. Again he went through what he saw and wondered how this man managed to leave the place and why.

Eric softly sighed and turned his attention back to the screens. Obviously, Callen didn't feel like talking. Perhaps the man didn't even like to share any thoughts at all with him.

He heard a soft buzz and noticed how the senior agent took his phone, read and replied with some quick taps of his thumbs. Then Callen just stared ahead for a moment.

"Everything okay?" Eric asked.

Callen hummed, maybe a bit lost in thoughts.

Since it wasn't a real reply, Eric repeated. "Are you okay, Callen?"  
One look at the man himself he wondered how he still did this. Eric hardly remembered the days when he and Callen already worked together. Days without Sam and Kensi, who joined NCIS later, as did Deeks and Nell.

But with Macy, Nate and Renko. Back then, Callen sat with him more often. Beaten up like this.  
Eric slowly shook his head. Renko died and so did Macy. And Nate and Callen, well, their last case together didn't turn out how anyone expected.  
None of them were forever young and to Eric it seemed Callen and Kensi were the ones hurt too often.  
Still, beside the days he spend hospitalized, Callen was at the office every possible moment. Even now, when most human beings would choose to take some easy days off, the agent in charge was around.

"Callen?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"Anything I can do for you?"

"Beale…" Callen hesitated a moment. "Have you got any idea when Sam and the others will be back?"

Eric turned to the other man again, less confident. "He said they'd need to stay at Homeland for a gathered meeting till about four this afternoon. Why?"

Callen held his phone up. "This agent, Ioulia Anghel? She suggests to meet her. Now."

"That's odd," Eric said. "I mean, why meet now? Shouldn't she be at that same meeting Sam and the others attend right now?"

"Don't know. So far, she wasn't connected to any of the plans."

"And you trust her?"

The question from Eric, this time, surprised him. How come the technical analyst came up with the question he heard from Sam and Anna already?  
Callen let the question sink in. Despite his headache and being easily blinded by the too bright lights, the sun or the office lights, he was able to think clear. There was no feeling of being manipulated at all by the special agent. The fact she was Romanian and was the one said Comescu suggested to contact him didn't bother him.  
"Yes." He looked Eric in the eyes, despite his left still was swollen. "Yes, Eric. I trust her. And I would like to meet her and let her know all ended well. Still…"

Eric's face lit up. "You wondered if Sam could drive you, but he's not around. You know, I could use some fresh air too. Where do you want to go?"

"The entrance of Venice." A smirk appeared on Callen's face. "And in case Sam wants to know where to pick me up, we'll use the place as close as possible to the Sidewalk Café."

"At your service," Eric replied. It'd only be a short drive and he'd love to be out on the streets too, for a change.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || opposite the Sidewalk Café**

He tried to look relaxed but by now Callen felt exhausted. Perhaps he should've listened more carefully to what the nurses had told him the night before. He rolled his shoulders several times and hid his sensitive eyes behind a pair of sunglasses.

He did look up though when she stood and took of the sunglasses she wore before putting them in a small purse. Then she observed him carefully. Like the last time they met, she was wearing a similar white shirt with a jeans shorts. "Jeez…" she simply said as she let her hand rest on his bare forearm.

"It's okay, Ioulia," Callen said. "It all worked out well".

"Da?"

He nodded as another confirmation. "There's nobody at large, not anymore. All of this players, they've all been snared in this sting," he said as she sat down next to him.

"Really!" She exclaimed. "Oh, really... mult pentru. Thank you so much Callen. All those kids —you've saved them all," she murmured. Suddenly her eyes were all soft and more or less teary and she turned even closer to him, her hand from the back of the bench to his shoulder.

He turned his head, a soft smile on his face. "Ioulia..."

"Hmm?" He let her touch the bruise on his cheek, her fingers cool and gentle on his skin. "It didn't come easy."

"It's what we do, so they say." He shrugged "I ran into a few troubles indeed. This will all heal, you know."  
He fell silent, thinking of the kids and how they'd heal. Physically they appeared to be undamaged, but mentally? He supposed they all must have been horrified, some of them perhaps traumatized. They'd need loving care, preferably in their own country.

"And you? Now you know this, what'll be your plans now?" Callen asked. He read the tension in her oddly bright eyes.

"I figured I could treat you with a good coffee first" she smiled as she nodded towards the café opposite of the bench they occupied.

He nodded. "Definitely. Let's find out what is the best flavor they serve."

A couple of moments later they both walked out with a cup to go.  
"You care for a stroll along the beach?" Ioulia asked.

Callen hesitated, glanced at his watch and shook his head. "It's not you. It's just…"

"She's a lucky girl, agent Callen. I'm sorry."

He let his hand rest on hers and was sorry too. This younger woman had it all, looks which could fool anyone, the right spirit and experienced as an agent. She definitely admired him, or perhaps just the stories she heard about him. She deserved better…  
"It has got nothing to do with 'her' or you, Ioulia. My partner, Sam, the big guy you've met, is picking me up any time soon. He's driving me to my place as I don't want to drive myself. A light concussion, you know". He lifted the aviator sunglasses which his black eye and the stitches in his brow. "Better be careful. Besides, I do have a headache."

Both sat down again and Callen repeated his question "So, what are your plans from now?"

She pouted her lips for a second, shook her head and said "I suppose I should call in with the Seattle office and hear what they've got for me."  
She sighed softly and took a sip from the frappucino she bought. "You know, I'd love to work in a team like yours. In my agency it's never clear what the next case means. Work with someone you hardly know, be a part in a quick response mission, go undercover alone like I did, for days, weeks or months."

"Same in our agency," Callen understood. "But you're right, the difference is that we have a team of four for the fieldwork and two analysts who can assist at the office or in the field as well. Without having to tell we know how we all have each-others backs. I've learned to appreciate it, even though it took me some time to do so. I guess I felt being on my own was better, because I know myself and trust my gut feeling."

She put the styrofoam cup next to her and leaned back, letting her hands go through the dark, wavy hair. Then she sighed, closed her eyes for a second, then looked up. "I get that. You truly are one of the agents my colleagues talk about, tu stii, you know? I wished I could've spent more time with you."

Callen remembered how Sam was looking for new agents for the team, and once he found some, he would take the jump and want to train and coach the most promising ones he selected. Would Ioulia Anghel fit in? He decided to let his thoughts go over that once his head was clear enough.  
"I get that."

She leaned towards him and let her gaze go over him again. "I know I shouldn't say anything stupid. But…" she giggled, blushed and bit her lower lip. "Oh man, this is silly, just let it rest."

From a distance Callen heard the distinct roar of his partner's Dodge and he smiled "You've got a whole minute to tell me."

She shook her head "You'll never face me if I did, I guess. But …" She tilted her head in the most innocent way and even without words, Callen felt a pang of sorrow.

Sam had halted his car and lowered his window. The shortest glance of his partner to the black car made Sam swallow back the words he was about to shout.

Again, Callen turned to the woman next to her. He then stood and made her look up at him. And without minding everyone else around, he gently lifted her chin and his lips softly brushed her forehead.  
His voice soft now he said "I get it. And… well, I'm sorry, Ioulia."

Her eyes were so much softer now. "She is lucky to have found you, Callen. She truly is."

"I know." He heaved a deep sigh. "I know. One day, Ioulia, you'll find someone special. Someone better than me."  
Then he turned to motion to Sam – he was on his way.

He turned around once again, smiled at her and raised his hand, his index finger. "One day, Ioulia…"

He never noticed the faint smile on Sam's face and the way his partner suddenly recollected some same sort of greet, from years ago.  
Never noticed how the smile faded with that thought.  
He never noticed the motorcycle.  
Nor how the cyclist gazed to the Dodge Challenger, and its passenger followed the gaze of its driver.  
Nor the fact that Sam wasn't aware of them either.  
Nor the fact the passenger aimed a gun in his direction.

All Callen heard was Ioulia yelling 'Look out!' and in the flash of a second his brain knew his attention was at the wrong spot.  
He heard a shot being fired.  
He simply observed how she tried to floor him.  
How there were more shots fired — he'd remember them, three more to be exact.  
The impact of her body against his, both tumbling down.

Two more shots.  
The roaring sound of the motor speeding off.

The blood.  
Hers.

No more shots fired.

"Why?" Callen asked her.

She just stared at him. "She… You need to be with her." She breathed out. "Callen?"

There was so much blood and his hands pressed the wound which he figured was the worst, as hard as he could.  
"Stay…"  
It was just a whisper. Weak. He saw it in her eyes.

He hummed. "Ioulia. You stay with me, right now. You stay."

Another soft sigh was all heard. "You stay. Look at me, Ioulia… you stay with me."

But she did close her eyes, despite his pleas.

He wasn't aware of anything happening around him. Sam would take care of that.  
He was just feeling this weak by now but he knew he had to keep the pressure on the wound that was bleeding so much. Still he struggled.

Then he felt the presence of his partner.

"G? Ambulance is on its way. Just keep the pressure on."

He hummed and groaned softly. "I… I need help, Sam. I can't…"

Only then Callen knew acknowledged the pain he felt himself. "We're shot."

* * *

_TBC  
thank you for reading!_


	12. Chapter 12

**The Sting**

**\- Chapter 12 –**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals ~]

* * *

Authors Note: Thank you so much for being patient… The previous chapter was posted weeks ago. Since then, I wrote snippets which made it into a whole new chapter. Holidays were a break I needed, before I left and after coming back working life is busier than I ever imagined. Anyway… I appreciated the likes and reviews you left to the latest chapter.

Disclaimer: Of course, names, streets, events: even if something seems to be like familiar, it truly is just my imagination. And forgive me for making mistakes: I'm not from LA, I have no medical background and so google is a great advisor in my case! As for using the main characters of my favorite tv-show, NCIS-LA, I never heard chrisodonnell or llcoolj or any of the producers, Shane Brennan or R. Scott Gemmil, nor CBS, complain about this either.

Please, just enjoy the read.

Kni®benrots

* * *

_o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)_

_Then he felt the presence of his partner. _

_"G? Ambulance is on its way. Just keep the pressure on."_

_He hummed and groaned softly. "I… I need help, Sam. I can't…"_

_Only then Callen acknowledged the pain he felt himself. "We're shot."_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || opposite the Sidewalk Café**

"G!', Sam called out, "How bad?"  
In a way this scene in front of him reminded him of how he'd sat with his partner and best friend on the fifth of May, years ago.  
Even the way Callen had turned away, motioning the 'one' with his index finger while saying something similar as Sam said back then. This time though, Sam only observed how it was the woman being shot.

Callen did his utmost to keep his focus to where his hands were - trying to prevent Ioulia's wound in her right shoulder from bleeding out more than it did right now. It was bad. His hands were covered with her blood. There had been two more shots fired but from his position he didn't dare to move and check where and how serious they were.  
She'd pushed him aside and he half sat, half lie on the pavement with her body covering his.

"She's lost so much blood, Sam. It's bad. Just... please help."

"And you?"

A light shake of his head. "Don't know. Left side hurts bad," he gasped.  
So much was going on around him. All in a blur though.  
He heard Sam yell in the coms something about a second ambulance and again he breathed out with a short gasp, let his head roll backwards in his neck, and closed his eyes.  
Just for a second.  
Sam would assist, he had to.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital **

Sam kept pacing from the waiting room back to the corridor and back again. Meanwhile, he let his thoughts go over what happened. He had witnessed how the motorcycle had halted near his car, but didn't feel that as a threat itself. But then the shooting started... before he himself could interfere, both Callen and Ioulia were down, out of his peripheral view.  
He had a millisecond to decide whether he should chase the motorcycle or to help Ioulia, and his partner.

"Please, Sam. You're making me nervous," Anna said in a soft voice.

"I **am** nervous."

She caught his gaze and noticed he was indeed.  
"Why did he do this Sam? I mean, it's not that he was her bodyguard," Anna asked, her voice sad and perhaps a tad too sharp.

Sam took a seat opposite of her and sighed, trying to relax a little. Then he shook his head.  
"This is what he does, or rather, this is what we do," he explained, with a wry smile. "Besides, it's in his blood, Anna. By now you should know that too. Even though we're talking about a change of jobs, I doubt if he's ever willing to give it a try."  
And pondering over the question even more, he doubted how much his partner really could endure, when it came to fieldwork.

Both fell silent for a while. Then Anna said "You know, we didn't even talk today. He just ignored my calls."

Sam understood. "He's not in the best condition as you will see. Had a rough night and a slight concussion. I drove him home last night after his visit at the ER of another hospital and he sure didn't get much sleep since I dropped him off home at about 2 AM, and I picked him up again around 9 this morning. He insisted to be at the office. Eric told me he got a call and he agreed to meet agent Anghel and asked me to pick him up, after our debriefing session."

"Did he debrief too?" Anna wanted to know.

"Not that I know of," Sam replied. "Although with Hetty around, you never know."

"Speaking of her... I expected her around and mothering her boy," Anna said with a shadow of a smile.

A short chuckle sounded as Sam agreed with Anna. Hetty always was fussing when her team was involved in fights or hospital visits, and with Callen it was worse. Always had been.  
He got up back on his feet, stretched his back and rolled his shoulders.

"Never mind... who do you think is behind this, why her, now?" Anna paused a second as she looked up at him, frowning. "Wait. What about Darius Comescu? Nell said no one saw him leave last night and that Callen asked about him too. So what if he is behind this? Don't tell me I didn't warn him!"

The thought had crossed Sam's mind as well but he shook his head. "I trust Callen's gut feeling, Anna. Comescu worked with Callen last night."

He glanced at his watch again, figuring out the time the surgeons already used to treat his friend. Callen had been gunned down before and things had looked worse than this gunshot wound, Sam knew. Yet looks may deceive. His friend's primary attention was for the female agent and once Sam was around it was as if the adrenaline all of a sudden had left Callen's body.  
The rapid change in his physical state had worried Sam, not knowing what the damage was.

He started pacing again, wondering about Anna's question.  
"Eric and Nell are working hard on finding Darius Comescu, and the shooter."  
It bothered him that he'd been too late to have a hit shot at the shooter after all. The angle had not been the right one and once it was, there were other people in the way. Sure, he knew he could rely on the analysts, but not knowing who was after the other agent was making it hard to find the right reason why.  
He added "And Kensi and Deeks are at the Good Samaritan, making arrangements to protect agent Anghel."

"You know… I'm sorry that, well I did call her names. I'm still not sure why Callen trusted her, I mean, she's someone who befriended a family member of his worse nemesis. Still, I never meant for her to be killed, Sam. It's just that..."  
Her voice came out small and it didn't fit her.

He shook his head. "No need to explain."  
Sam leaned against the wall, too restless to sit down again.

"But Callen... what if he thinks I was prying? Doing this to prove..." Anna looked up, uncertain, uttering her thoughts in a way that was unfamiliar to Sam.

She was interrupted though by a young nurse who came walking their way. "Family of Mr. Callen?" she asked.

Both Sam and Anna nodded.

The nurse let her gaze go over both people, frowned and shook her head. "Are you sure about that?"

"His brother" sounded at the same time as "his fiancée".

If any of these persons fit best, it was Anna, so the nurse addressed her. "So, Mr. Callen was shot in the abdomen. As you may know or may not know, gunshot wounds in that region can be lethal."  
She paused, observing if the people really understood. Both the man as the woman were aware of what she told them, she noticed by their stance and gaze and so she continued "Although the bullet was removed neatly, it ruined a major blood vessel, with internal bleedings which we managed to stop. It did graze the liver too, and damage to any organs can also turn out to utterly dangerous. Still, surgery appears to have gone okay for as far as we can see. If there won't be any complications, like internal bleeding or infection in the next 48 hours, the patient will be recovering just fine."  
She then added "And you'll be able to visit him in half an hour. Mind you, he still will be groggy."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

From the corridor, Anna heard Sam's dark voice speak. He, as the current leader of the team, probably called in with the office.  
Right now, Anna didn't care. Her attention went to the man in the bed, next to whom she'd put a chair so she could be as close to him as she could get.

When had it been, nearly a year ago, when he'd taken his chair next to her bed? But never before she had sat next to him.

The nurse had warned her about his wounds, and before that Sam had done the same too. During the short op to which she'd opposed, he'd been in a fight.  
It showed on his face where a butterfly adhesive wound bandage was put over his brow, whilst his other eye was black and still thick. His knuckles were raw and scraped and there were more bruises on his torso which was bare except for the bandages that covered his waist.

It gave her the creeps to hear beeps from machines and to see him this pale, still and vulnerable, with an IV line entering a vein in his left arm, bags with a clear fluid and blood hanging high on the infusion set and the catheders dripping.

She wanted to concentrate on Sam's conversation and yet she didn't. If only she could turn back time. Yet, she wondered how it would be if he, or they, would choose to live the rest of his life without being in danger.

Was it his end game, or would there be something else like a retirement for him? She knew she could do that, but could he?  
She remembered the happy days with Callen before it all turned out so wrong.

Back then, she blamed him for ruining her career. She should've trusted him more, but that was all in hindsight. And it was the same the other way - Callen never was a person who trusted others that easily, he felt betrayed by her too. Could their relationship ever be like in the beginning again?

With a deep sigh she leaned forward and softly let her hand go over his.  
A rustle made her look up, only to see his blue eyes open and gaze tiredly into hers.  
"Hey..." was all she managed to say.

"Anna..."  
Just a whisper. Callen wet his lips and closed his eyes again. A second or so later he croacked "... she did it... for you."

Anna leaned even closer. "What do you mean?"

"She saved me. For you."  
Again he closed his eyes while he let escape a half-sigh-half-moan. Lines around his mouth and the dark shadows around his eyes showed he was in pain.

For a while she held her breath, wondering what his words meant. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks and she sat up right. This... it was exactly opposite of what she and the others thought. Not Ioulia was targeted - Callen was the one they'd been after!  
"Wait! I have to let Sam know."

She got up and hurried to the corridor and didn't care whom Sam was calling, she just interrupted. "Sam! They aimed for Callen, not for agent Anghel!"

* * *

_Your reviews are welcome, as ever!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**The Sting**

* * *

Author's Note: thank you so much for reading the previous chapter(s) and leaving a review. It makes writing a much better challenge to me!

And as I told you before, I am no physician, nor do I live in the City of Angels. So if you were to discover any odd facts in a previous chapter or this one, don't hesitate in letting me know.

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_"Sam! They aimed for Callen, not for agent Anghel!"_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital **

Sam's gaze grew grim on hearing Anna's words. "You hear that Kensi?"

Anna couldn't hear what was said at the other side of the phone but by the way Sam rolled his eyes she understood there was a remark made that he didn't like.  
"Yeah. Leave it to them and get back to the office."

He then disconnected and turned to Anna. "Callen told you that?"

She nodded. "He was awake."

In a few steps Sam entered the recovery room in the secluded area of the hospital. What had his friend gotten himself in now?  
Despite what the nurse had told them, he kept being worried for the state his friend was in right now. The pale, nearly yellowy shade of his skin was new to what he ever noticed before, which were many times, too many times in fact.

Callen's eyes were closed again and Sam knew from experience that being wounded like he was right now, his friend must be washed out and need the rest indeed. Still, he wanted to hear it for himself what his friend had to say.  
"G?"

He waited a few seconds until Anna tried too. "Callen?" And then "Grisha?"

"Hmm..."

In a softer voice Sam now prompted "G, buddy, c'mon, we need to talk."

With quite some effort Callen did reopen his eyes, squinting against the bright lights in the recovery room. Again, he hummed to confirm he heard his friends.

"Anna says the shots were meant for you."

"First one… hit me," Callen croaked. He wet his lips with his tongue. "I never saw it coming. But…" he inhaled slowly and paused while doing so, and a second later he added "She did."

Anna glanced at Sam who shook his head. She understood. From what Sam just heard from his coworkers, Ioulia Anghel was not in a position to answer any questions.

"We're looking into this matter as we speak. There ought to be more people who witnessed what happened," Sam said. "I bet Eric and Nell are already looking into it."  
He wondered if Callen heard him after all since he'd closed his eyes again. Did it matter? His partner knew all too well that everything that needed to be done, was done.  
"G? You listening? Deeks and Kensi already work on this case. I better go and help them, unless you want me to stay."

There still was no reply, and he was restless himself, as if he missed something important and had not been able to intervene in time, had not been able to prevent what happened. Yes, he needed to work on this matter.

He realized sitting here and being unable to do something must be even worse to Anna. She'd only turned up a day and a half ago, not having the opportunity to spend some time together with Callen so far, and here they were.  
Gently, he lay his hand on her shoulder. "Stay with him, Anna. See what else he's able to share. And inform me if anything changing, will'ya?"

Her eyes, large as ever, showed a short pang of panic and shock which she probably felt to know she was left alone with Callen and was the one he'd see when he was waking up again. Did he want to see her again?

"I guess Hetty will show up any time soon," he told her calmly. "She'll keep you company. He should be okay, the medical people in here mentioned it. You just need to trust them, like I do."

"I know that. You're right, Sam. Just go and find who did this and why." She heaved a deep sigh and said "We'll talk whenever the time is right. But right now I wished there was more I could do." She watched the beaten up and sleeping man for a second. She had missed him during the past months and wondered where this took them at this moment. Then she said "Yeah, I know… officially not allowed to work, better not be seen either. I'll stay. Before you go, let me check if I have your number in my phone."  
Both of them took their phones and swapped numbers, then Sam left.

He probably drove in the opposite direction as Hetty went right now, and pass her somewhere during the half hour drive to the office. He knew all too well how the older woman would stay with his partner, like a kind of momma bear and her cub. He grinned to himself at this comparison — he'd never dare to call them like this aloud.

And, truth be told to himself, Sam did feel rather guilty too. He should have told Callen to stay at home after such a bad night he had before. Being tired like his partner had been after a long day and night, and with a slight concussion, his friend definitely should've taken more rest and sleep. Instead he had demanded to be dragged back at work.  
Sure, Callen always was observant. As was he, himself.  
Why had this been so different from usual? Was it the weariness of the night before, the muse of how Callen and the other woman were talking? He heaved a deep sigh. He figured the team at the office would do miracles, as ever, and they'd find the ones responsible for this shooting soon.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' office of special projects **

Kensi and Deeks had joined the two analysts already at Ops and the moment Sam entered, Eric shook his head to the question Sam asked on his way from the hospital to headquarters.  
"So as I found out, Sam, somewhere near University Park we lost it."

"Which 'we' we're talking about, my magic master of the MacBook?" Deeks retorted.

"Well... the system and I. There's no camera feed that picked up the motorcycle, somehow it, well, it disappeared."

It caused Kensi to sigh deeply. So far, they had nothing, except for what they knew from bystanders already. "What brand was it, we know that already?"

"From all the feed it looks like a Kawasaki. Black."

"Any idea how many of those are registered in LA?" Kensi asked.

A grin appeared on Deeks' face. "Babe... remember Lonny Zhuan, the guy who sold and bought back my Triumph Bonneville? The guy knows brands, types, whatever there is to know. Name it and he knows facts and figures. We'd better focus on helmets too and, don't laugh, the foot-pegs."  
He changed his attention to Eric and Nell. "Y'think there are clear images of all of those? I could contact Zhuan, you see, and inquire for specific intel."

"On it," Eric said.

"Actually, since your phone call, I focused on Callen's enemies and your recent cases," Nell popped in.

"Man..." Sam shook his head on Nell's message. "Sounds like a mission itself. I mean, remember this guy of last night, Rand, was it? And it's been what, 'bout six years ago?"

A suspicious smile from the analyst was sent his way. "Like you we have the dreading days of office work in here. You'd be surprised by the systems we've already built."

"She did that," Eric mentioned matter-of-factly. "There's no 'we' in that. Besides, Callen has a great memory too."

"Sure he does," Sam agreed, not surprised by Eric's interruption.

"Anyway, I call this system 'key-s-se-key'." The petite information analyst nodded to herself and added "As the French say, who is who, qui est-ce qui, you get it?"

Again, Kensi was the one who wanted to know more. "Never mind its name. How does it work, which criteria do you use and can we trust it?"

"Of course. There are lists of cases, years, months. And main characters who were imprisoned as well as those who got away. For instance, with you, Sam, there's most recently Argento added as someone who may hunt for you, if he can."

He understood, still, with his partner he imagined a never-ending list.

As if she expected a question Nell just showed him on the large screen. "Three hundred eighty-six of them, still alive, of whom... –" She pressed some keys and did a quick math. "One hundred fifty-seven are walking around. Which means they were never caught, released or paroled."

Kensi shook her head. "That many?"

"Now if you could inform with that dealer," Eric said urged Deeks and Kensi. "Pictures are sent over to your phones. I bet not all of these 157 are in town or know how to ride a motorcycle."

"Rrrrright," Deeks roared, motioning at his partner and wife to follow him.

After they'd both left, Eric chuckled "So predictable, right? Once they're back, Deeks will be complaining about Kensi's driving. In fact, if they'd be using the coms, we can literally hear that."

For a brief moment, Sam smiled along.  
Then he remembered Callen's remarks about him using the Challenger, and that both friends as foes would recognized his car after all those years and cases. And hadn't Callen been the one joking around the other day, with a serious tone though, about being predictable? Who had known where to find Callen?

"Nell, Eric..." Sam said, holding his breath, "rewind as far as you can."

"Rewind - what?" Eric frowned at Sam's request.

"A video of my day so far. Or to be more specific, my car. See if there's anything you can find which is suspicious in relation to the shooting."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital **

Anna didn't recognize any of the people who came in and went, but Hetty did. No matter how much Anna preferred to stay with Callen right now, she was too curious about the tired looking, but sophisticated grey haired man who checked chards and numbers from the monitor near Callen's bed.

As if there was an unspoken message, Hetty got up on her feet in as if she was gestured and addressed by this man.

In a low voice Hetty nodded and said "Anna, dear, I'd like you to meet Mr. Lee."

And as if it were the most obvious thing, she followed the man who left the recovery room immediately. And so Anna just joined the nearly retired petite woman and the man called Lee to a small room next to the nurses' front desk.

The man, a doctor, Anna understood, started talking as if she weren't there. "Henrietta… there's six days and three hours left until my retirement. I had hoped not to deal with one of yours during these few times I've left working in the surgery. However, I was confronted with your agent Callen on the operation table once again."

"Guillaume, I cannot tell you how sorry I am about that as well. But, first things first, I'd like you to get to know Miss Kolcheck. She is…"

Anna filled in Hetty's sentence "His girlfriend."

The older man just nodded and acknowledged her presence. "It's a nasty wound he has this time."

"Does he know? He was alert until the ambulance came, and was awake about half an hour ago," Anna said. "And it's only one shot, right? I mean, he survived being shot five times. And the nurse already said how the bleeding was stopped and the liver was only touched lightly."

Both Hetty as the surgeon nodded. Then Lee explained himself further. "Not every gunshot is the same. Some bullet-wounds destroy whole areas."

"Not this one?" Hetty asked.

"Not this one," Lee confirmed. "Compare this wound to a knife wound. The bullet entered his body at a much lower velocity. Two of the lower ribs cracked, thus the liver was damaged indeed. There was a lot of bleeding which we were indeed able to stop. But in a case like this, there's debris, dirt, bacteria, clothing, which did enter the wound. It may cause a nasty contamination."

Hetty had been in this line of work long enough to know what this meant. A sepsis was a serious risk, especially in the area where Callen was hit. If that were the case, his body might be unable to dispose the toxins. "He's on antibiotics, I suppose?"

The surgeon nodded. "The ones his body agrees upon. Which are, I may add, not the ones I would have preferred."  
He read the papers in the file in front of him and mumbled a make which Anna never caught.

Lee then continued "We've made it an open surgery and leave it as open as can be, for the moment. I want it to be monitored for the first few days, and drain the wound as much as I find it necessary. As you will understand, blood clotting is another risk."

"But… He would be much worse then, with what you just mentioned. I mean, he was alert only an hour ago," Anna said.

Hetty smiled her way. Of course her boy was strong. "He'll pull through, as ever, Miss Kolcheck. Most probably, he'll experience some bad moments indeed."

Lee agreed "All we can do is watchfully waiting. Once we can close the wounds with ordinary sutures, he'll need to limit his activities and to rest in bed to recover. Give it a few tensive days. We'll move him to a private room after another few hours. I suggest you'll wait nearby. Our nurses will inform you the moment he's been moved."

* * *

TBC

Feel free to leave your review!


	14. Chapter 14

**The Sting**

**Chapter 14**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals ~]

Authors Note: Thank you, again, for reading. And to all of you who were kind enough to leave a review: I'm ever so glad with those, it is what makes a writer happy! I sure hope you will appreciate this one as well!

Disclaimer: Of course, names, streets, events: even if something seems to be like familiar, it truly is just my imagination. After all, how would I know? And as for using the main characters of my favorite tv-show, NCIS-LA, I never heard chrisodonnell or llcoolj or any of the producers, Shane Brennan or R. Scott Gemmil, nor CBS, complain about this either.

Please, just enjoy the read.

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || NCIS' office of special projects || Ops**

"Sam?" Nell asked, "Is there any news from the hospital? What do you think, how's Callen doing?"

A shrug accompanied the deep sigh. "He's been through some worse times, I know. But well... time will tell, the first 48 hours will count. As long as his vital signs won't change, it'll be alright. We did talk though, and he was alert. And Anna's with him right now, as is Hetty, most probable."

Eric and Nell nodded nearly in sync. Both were glad that Sam was around. He would never be if Callen was in a seriously critical situation.

"So he'll be okay, I suppose," Nell said, hoping she was right.

Eric then said "So, what are going to look for, when you want us to track your car? What is it you think I can find?"

"Someone following me, to get to Callen."

Eric nodded as he understood Sam's request. "I can do that. But Sam... the two of you always work together. You really think—"

"Yes," Sam simply stated. "I probably lead them the way."

"Not willingly," Eric shook his head, already letting his fingers going over the keys to enter all kind of search entries, hoping a connection was soon to be found.  
Then he looked up again to Sam and repeated "Never willingly of course, Sam. Damn... who is after him?"

None of them spoke, since the three of them had not a clue.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

It had taken quite some time to get to the man Deeks had done business with in the past, but showing the few pictures they had never rang a bell to Zoang.

"Now what?" Kensi said as she checked her watch. "It's been about four full hours since Callen was shot and so far we've got nothing, except the fact the shooters rode a motorcycle of which a couple of hundred may drive around in the whole of Los Angeles. And the camera feed lost it, so… "

Deeks glanced at his partner and wife. "I'd say I should call in, listen what Sam or Ochoa, íf he's still around, advise. Maybe a good night of sleep will help us all. All we know by now is that Callen is alive and kicking—"

"We don't know."

"Of course we do," Deeks disagreed. "Sam would have let us know. So would Hetty. Although… well, I truly wonder if Hetty could survive the shock."

"Deeks!" Kensi shouted. "How could you even think about such a thing?"

"Don't tell me the thought never crossed your mind."

She sighed, concentrating on the traffic in front of her. Sure, she'd considered thoughts like these many times. Kensi however never talked about it, but she knew Hetty considered Callen as a son, the son she never had. But she herself always felt he was an older brother, one she never had. And big brothers should always be around. When she started her job at NCIS, she had some kind of high school crush on him and admired his ability to be whoever he wanted to be.  
Things had changed throughout the years. The way her relation with Deeks had developed.  
The their team worked. Still an elite team, but there'd been less undercover operations and more and more black ops. Hetty was less around and ever since their team dealt wilt Mosley, Ochoa and Rogers. All three of them had tried to terminate the team, tried to push them as a team in a different way of working, more like the other NCIS teams. But Rogers, finally, learned to appreciate the way they managed to end violence in the city.  
But never without Callen, Kensi pondered. The team performed best with Callen around. The thought of him no longer around made her shiver.

"Just call Sam, will you Deeks? I'll sleep much better when I know how Callen's doing."

He hummed a confirmation and speed dialed their senior co-worker. Two rings later Sam answered with a plain 'yes?'.

"Any news on Callen?"

"No changes. So I suppose nothing worrisome. Either Hetty or Anna would have let me know," Sam replied with a sigh. "You? Anything new?"

Deeks shook his head automatically. "No, nothing in fact. Dead end. Still that's better than ending dead, right?"

With a curse from the other end of the line and a glare from Kensi, Deeks shook his head again. "I know, I know… a terrible pun. Still, glad to hear he's doing okay. Or well… okay, well, you know…"  
Another sideway glance from his partner, still driving, made him stop rambling and so he continued more seriously now. "Listen Sam, by now I think none of us is sharp any longer. Sunset's in half an hour, there's no use going back and look and find any witnesses. Tomorrow's another day, right?"

"Hmmh, ya," Sam muttered his reply. "Guess you're right. Be back in here tomorrow morning, at 7 sharp, will'ya?"

"Alrighty," Deeks agreed. "Get some sleep yourself too, Sam. And send that pundit pair home as well. No use having their systems getting overheated at ops, right?"

He ended the call and sat back more comfortably in the car seat. Without a look at Kensi he simply said "What?"

She inhaled deeply and, figuring this time she was the wisest one of them two, and she just shook her head. "Nothing."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital || halfway the night**

When Sam had called her earlier that day to tell that Callen had been shot, the first instinct she had was to leave immediately and hurry to the hospital. But then, since Sam was still around back then and the fact that Callen was seriously wounded, though not life threatening, she informed Rogers and asked him to run the office on his own. Then she left, making sure to take a bag full of necessities with her.

And here she was, in the hospital room, silently reading and waiting until her boy would wake up again. And she was not alone.

Actually, Hetty was surprised that Anna still was around. Both women had had a good talk earlier that night.

Hetty's face, usually expressionless, had been cracked with worry when she'd asked Anna why she never contacted Callen before. Instead, Arkady Kolcheck's daughter had been hunting Comescu without asking anyone's opinion.

"I did what I thought was best for Callen." Anna stated.

"So, young-lady… And what's best for him, was it your decision alone, or did you have his say in that as well? Have you ever asked him?"

Anna pouted and let her hand go through the long blond hair "Do you think he would ever let me know, Hetty? He's about the most stubborn person I know. Although perhaps Arkady is even worse." She giggled, thinking of her father. "Ah, well… no, in fact I didn't," she continued. "And I'd never thought our reunion would be like this, to be honest. And no, don't ask, because I don't know how I really expected it to be". She paused a moment. "More relaxed, I think. I mean, I really thought he'd be upset when I mentioned Darius Comescu. Instead, he was alright with that man around."

Hetty understood. "You showed up at a most unexpected time, Miss Kolcheck, as our Mr. Callen was readying himself for an undercover operation already. And from what I observed there were some, how shall I call it, unpleasant words used to address the other agent, as was there a less likeable encounter, so I've heard."

An unusual blush appeared on Anna's face. "I really feel embarrassed about that."

Both women fell silent for some moments.  
"We don't know if she survived?"

Hetty shook her head. "No, we don't, my dear. I will try and find out." She then sent the other woman a warm smile. "You do look tired. Now why don't you try and get some rest?"

Anna smiled back, one of her upright broad smiles this time. "That sounds alright." She got up on her feet and looked around in the rather luxurious hospital room, then opened the sliding door of the high wardrobe. She reached for a comforter and found a pillow as well and got as comfortable as possible.

That was all earlier that night. Much earlier.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

There was a soft rustle of fabric.

Hetty looked up from page 73 of 'Too much and never enough', a most entertaining book she found in the bookstore on the way to the hospital.  
So far, the story she read fit all too well of what she knew about the twisted man whom, in fact, she'd served for the past few years.

She expected it to come from the opposite side of the hospital bed where the young, blonde woman was curled up in a chair, close to the bed, in a most uncomfortable way, underneath the hospital-issued comforter. But Anna was still sound asleep.

There it was again, a stir. She put away her book when the rustle was accompanied by a whimper and shiver.  
"Grisha?" She whispered in a soothing voice. She could see he was starting to come to. His breathing was uneven, different from the hours she'd spent in here so far.

There was another shudder.

"Grisha?" she repeated.

He turned her way and mumbled something she didn't understand. For the past few hours, he simply slept. Perhaps the anesthesia finally left his body. Perhaps he was pain.  
Then, with a frown, she was on her feet, close enough to gently place her hand on his forehead. Too clammy, too warm. Not what was to be expected, although it was mentioned as a possibility. She shook her head. It should not be anything urgent, yet Hetty pressed the emergency button.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Another hour later, Henrietta Lange could not concentrate on the words on the pages in front of her. She'd closed the book and simply sat; watching the man in the bed like she'd been doing for far too many times.

The man he now was, who'd grown to trust her despite the things that happened in the past. How long would he be able to survive in the field? At the age he had by now, she had been a handler already. Reluctant though, since the fieldwork, the spying, was still in her blood. But she was a woman though, and with her posture Hetty always stood out.  
Contrary to Callen. His features, like now, were so recognizable. Yet she'd seen him in so many undercover operations, being able to be who he wanted to be, exactly how others needed him to see. A natural actor, she mused. Hollywood could've used him, though a job like that would never suit him.

Kensi Blye was nearly as good, she knew. Being a striking beauty though, people would always remember her. Same went for Sam. Never mind how he dressed, he'd always be described as the lookalike of one of these famous hip-hop singers. And Deeks, well, she'd always be scared a longer undercover operation would be a bridge too far for the man. During the shorter periods he was a marvel too.  
But nobody would ever equal Callen. If only she wasn't this scared she may lose him before her time came, simply because his persistence to safe others, and to feel his own life less significant.

She sighed, lost in thoughts for a while.

Callen was still in the hospital bed, nearly motionless by now. In the past hour, the surgeon of the night shift told her that what happened was exactly what they had hoped would not happen.  
His body temperature had risen, still not because of a fever or an infection. He was in pain. The medication he'd been given wasn't helping enough to suppress the pain. All she could do was to convince the medical personnel how his body would respond to the next best pain medication. He'd be sick, writhing in agony, which may also affect the wounds. Since neither of those choices would do him any good, the surgeon decided to make a bold decision he'd discussed with Hetty, to keep Callen sedated completely for the first half day, and see how things would develop till that moment.

Pacing in the corner of the room, Anna's voice sounded. "What is it you're worried about, Hetty?"

She looked up, confused. "Excuse me, what did you say?"

"You were distracted. This far away look of yours… Are you worried he's –" She didn't want to think of what Hetty may or may not mull over.

"He'll be alright."  
It was about the shortest reply Anna had heard the older woman ever gave.

She hummed. "You know, Hetty, there were so many times I felt sorry how I ran from him. Back there, at the airport, after the prison break with Katya. In Cuba, when I decided to stay. I mean, I could have— I wondered what kept me from turning around and just go, join him."

"Yet something kept you."

She paused a minute, then nodded. "I was scared. Scared he would not forgive me. I wanted him to speak the truth about the shooting, then when he did, I was so… so angry with him. Why didn't he fight for what we had? But then, how could he? Telling lies would have had consequences for him too. It never was worth it, was it? I wanted him to visit me, yet I told him to stay away. All for the reasons I had, still… I know I hated him for not being around. I failed him, Hetty. I finally know for sure. That's why I wanted to think I did the right thing. I ran. Wanting him to be happy, find his father. Hunt Comescu. Still, we haven't had a chance to talk about it".  
Anna started to pace the room, again. "He hás to be okay, Hetty. He really has to."

* * *

_thank you for reading!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**The Sting**

* * *

[A sting ~ a confidence game, especially one implemented by undercover agents to apprehend criminals ~]

Disclaimer: all the original characters belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. I just used them for this storyline. As for all the other names and characters - they're all made up and are never meant to resemble any persons - dead or alive. If you do recognize names, it is purely coincidental!

Authors Note: To those who stick to this story, thank you. Not as many are, though, which makes me wonder why to continue this. However, we're near to the end of it, so, I may just as well finish what I started. Guess I need new fuel, so I do hope the team of writers, crew and cast let us know and show the first episodes of season 12! Next to that, I love to read other writer's stories, more than it is the other way around, so it seems.  
Please, just enjoy the read, and feel free to leave your review.

Kni®benrots

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_Anna started to pace the room, again. "He hás to be okay, Hetty. He really has to."_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital || halfway the night **

Hetty unconsciously shook her head with the words Anna Kolcheck just said. "But of course I agree with you, dear. And he will be, in the end. It is just to remind you that we, you, his team and I, will have to take care of him in the near future. And how I would love to see him settle even more than at this moment."

She let her thoughts run freely. If only he'd take the time to smell the roses… Could Anna Kolcheck be the right woman for him? She hoped, but who was she to make a choice? She continued to address the young woman.  
"The two of you need to figure this out, of course. Until now, he values his own life less valuable as he seems to cares for the others… Although Mr. Callen never had an ordinary life himself, he most certainly know what it means to other people. He's most satisfied when he knows that in the end, he can make sure that the people he fights for are able to lead an ordinary life, the one he never knew and thinks will not be meant for him. But perhaps, dear Miss Kolcheck, we may prove him wrong. If you are willing to try too, I am pretty sure the two of you could just fight for have such a life."

Anna nodded and pondered over the message that the older woman spoke. "That is your opinion. But what if —"

"What if-s don't count, dear," Hetty interrupted. "You mean: what if you don't want to? Well, then I suggest that if you may just as well leave at this very moment. The simple fact that you decided to be here, stay, shows in my humble opinion, that you want at least find a moment to discuss this precious matter with Mr. Callen in here."

Anna sat down in the chair again, though she never was relaxed at all. She let her elbows rest on her knees and her head sank in het hands.

Hetty felt sorry for the young woman, who went through such a difficult time. In a softer voice she continued. "He may or may not be willing to fight for it. Rest assured, that the moment you showed him you didn't want to be together, he must have felt it was necessary to let you go, let you leave, looking for a kind of life that suit you better. And yes. I saw him suffering with that decision, and to be frankly with you he most probably would have preferred you to stay. Make sure to be around as much as you can be and find the right moments to let him know how you feel right now."

Anna let her gaze rest on the woman who appeared to be so calm. "I won't run this time."  
She stretched and took the comforter again. She at least needed to try and get more rest.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital || early next morning**

After a light breakfast with a cup of tea, a nurse came into the room to check all vitals. She smiled apologetically and said "I will need ask doctor Lee to come and check as well."

"Is anything wrong?" Anna asked.

"That is up to doctor Lee to decide," came as an answer.

A quarter of an hour later, the doctor entered and he addressed both of them. "Henrietta, Miss Kolcheck, good morning to you. I'm surprised to find both of you in here already."

"Cut the chit-chat, Guillaume," Hetty replied. "There's this nurse who entered and she told us you are needed. Explain, is anything going on?"

Lee nodded and closed the door. He rested his upper back against the wall of the room and said "His temperature is still, or again, too high in our opinion. And for the trained eye, it has been noticed his skin is too yellow too. This is exactly what we are scared of. His liver is in overdrive and most probably, there's gall leaking. We need to make sure there's nothing else wrong… Therefore, I suggest we are going to have a look inside. Drain the wound. At this moment, I must say I'm grateful that we've kept him sedated. And —" He raised his arm in a way that kept the others from interrupting, "this is a matter of routine."

The nurse knocked on the door and Lee was the one to open it. She rolled in a trolley with all kind of medical supplies on it.

"Now, if you'd please?"

With just these few words, both Anna and Hetty were summoned to wait outside.

They hardly spoke to each other this time, both worried for Callen. "He'll be alright," Hetty said, not specifically to the other woman.

Still Anna replied with a simple "He will." Then she looked around, got back on her feet again and took a free cup of hot coffee from a vending machine. After a minute or so she sipped from it. It tasted terrible, but she could use the caffeine.

Only a couple of moments later, the nurse left the room again and soon after, the grey haired surgeon opened the door again with a faint smile which, wordlessly, made both women relax a little and re-enter Callen's room where they sat down on the very same chairs.

"As I expected, we just needed to clean things up a bit better," the doctor explained. "The injury itself is clean, no inflammations at all. Still, there was indeed old blood and bile leaking into the abdomen. We performed a so-called 'percutaneous drainage', in other words, we collected the fluids and hope that with a small embolization, all will work out well. In another two hours his wound will be carefully checked again. But hopefully this was the only time we needed to drain," the doctor mentioned to both women.

He noticed how Hetty sat opposite of him, as ever straight up and for the eye fresh and sharp as ever. But he knew how stoic she could appear, whereas it came to sticking around, especially where it concerned this man, she cared more than she showed.  
The younger blonde beauty was different. Pale now, dark circles under her puffy eyes, frowns in her face and the large eyes full of worry. She cared too, he understood. Lee then went on "He'll stay asleep and sedated for a few hours more, as agreed upon."

Somehow it had surprised him. He'd dealt with this man several times before during both their careers and until now, it had been a struggle to agree upon any treatment that would keep this agent Callen hospitalized as long as needed. In the man's own opinion, that was. He recalled the times Callen had left the hospital against medical advice several times in the past.

Not this time. Lee read the report of his colleague. Henrietta's agent probably felt more miserable than he showed anyone, to agree to it to be kept in a medical sleep.  
"I'll check how he's doing around lunchtime," Lee said.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital || halfway the afternoon**

Sam bought himself a late lunch and sat down in one of the vacant chairs with a deep sigh, already hating how he'd continuously glance at the monitor with all kind of lines, knowing how those represented the condition of his friend. There was no one to talk to. No Hetty and no Anna. Both women left a while ago for an hour or so, to freshen up, get some fresh air and a lunch as well.

It frustrated Sam to just sit and wait, chew on some food, alone, and hope for a phone call from their HQ to tell him they at least had something to work with. So far, they'd had nothing, no clues at all.

He took his phone and went through the latest app messages from his kids, then got back on his feet and gazed out of the window, actually not seeing anything but quietly letting the last few days pass through his mind again.

There was a soft moan, or perhaps a yawn, and instead of the complete stillness Sam had witnessed since he was in the room, there now was a change, a wriggling came from the bed. His partner was definitely coming to.

Sam swallowed away the bite he just took and said with a smile "About time, you sleepy head."

The blue eyes of his friend flew open, all in shock and recognition. At the same time Callen pushed himself up, leaning on his elbows and forearms.

"Whoah, G!"  
Sam dropped his lunch bag and swiftly but gently pushed his friend back with his strong right hand.  
"Calm down, buddy. It's okay. It's okay," Sam repeated, soothing now.

"Sam? What…" Callen looked around, took a deep breath and hoarsely said "Thought I overslept."

A large dimple appeared in Sam's cheek. "You've been out for quite some time, but not oversleeping. And I'm not in here to catch you up for work."

The sole grunt his friend let out made clear that Callen understood already.  
"Damn," he swore.

"Want me to call someone, need a painkiller?"

"How bad is't?" There was a slight slur in his voice and although he was feeling like crap he needed to clear his head too, in his own opinion.

Sam picked up the pack he'd dropped before and shrugged. "You don't want to know what they've done to you," he said. "But most important is you're on your way to recovery."  
He'd leave it to the doctors to explain what they'd done so far, which had something to do with drainage and heat. Still, the wound needed to be stitched this day or the day after. It might prove to be a real challenge to make Callen stay as flat and immobile as possible for the time to come.

There was another question fired at him. "Y'got them?"

Sam shook his head. "I'll talk to you, but first you need some fluids or ice chips, G. So I've got to call in a nurse anyway.  
He pressed the emergency button, then addressed his partner again. "We've got nothing, so far."

"Anna's gone." It was more a statement than a question and Sam felt sorry for the emotions his friend must feel.

He shook his head "She's having lunch, with Hetty. She's been here all night and day, waiting for you to wake up, Callen. If you stay awake, the two of you can talk about whatever it is you want to share. And –"

The entrance of a nurse came as an intervention. Sam was the one who asked "He's just awake. Can he have something to drink already? And perhaps —" he glanced at his friend before he asked "perhaps another session of painkillers?"

"I'll have to ask he doctor about the painkillers. Will you be alright for the first minutes, sir?"

Callen nodded as a reply.

She smiled politely and added "But some sips of water, as a clear fluid, should be no problem." She took a cup from one of the cupboards, filled it with water and put on a lid with a straw in it and held it in front of him.

"Could sit," Callen stated.

But she shook her head. "No sir, until the surgeon has closed the wound, you are supposed to stay as flat as possible."

He frowned, since he had no idea that until now nothing seemed to have changed. Still, it was useless and he felt far too weak to bring in this matter. He'd wait and see, and would appreciate some pain killers indeed.  
But first, he gratefully took some sips, and nodded when the nurse put down the cup a second afterwards and left.

He gratefully sipped again from the straw and closed his eyes for a second.

Then he was back, glaring at his friend. He scraped his throat, still his words came out hoarsely. "Thought you said I'm on the way to recovery." He wet his lips, lifted the duvet just to peek at how things looked and said "but she tells me this still needs stitches or staples."

"What I know is that this gown they dressed you in is ridiculous. I'd say you need your pajamas, G. And painkillers. Like his nurse, Lena, is arranging right now," Sam chuckled as he hoped to keep the talk as fluff as possible. Still, he didn't miss the pain lines on his best friend's face. It had been less than a day since Callen was hospitalized of which he'd been kept asleep most of the time. Now he was awake it would prove to be difficult to keep him in this place and leave everything else to his team.

Callen managed to get the flat part of the night table swivel a bit so he could catch the straw between his lips once again. He drew in a breath and muttered "Need to get away from here."

"No you won't. You'd better be grateful you can stay in here and let that body of yours heal," Sam replied, chewing away the last bits of his lunch.

Then, as a pang of his memory, Callens bright blue eyes widened as he faced Sam "Ioulia?"

The dark brown eyes of his partner were serious now. He shrugged "Don't know yet, Callen."

There was no reply and although Sam had hardly been around when his partner worked with the agent with the Romanian name, he understood how worried Callen was. After all she had saved his life simply by shielding his body. Or, as Deeks had called it, she had been Callen's 'guardian angel'.  
"The others are working as hard as they can to find out who's after this," Sam said.

"Nell's programmed that new system, maybe —"

"Just don't you worry, G. Leave this to us and you just worry about your health."

"Don't have anything else to do, right?" A faint smirk appeared on Callen's face and Sam knew that whatever the struggle was, his friend would deal with it. He hoped that with Anna around, it would be easier.

A knock on the door announced another nurse. Her gaze rested on Callen for a few seconds and then she stated "Visiting time is over."

Sam nodded and said "Like I said, you'd better relax and get your rest, buddy. I'll be back after I've finished at the office."

Callen nodded "See you."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Once in the corridor, Sam sent a short app at the office, telling them he'd be on his way back. He then strode towards the elevators. Passing the nurses' desk, the nurse he'd seen before at Callen's room, was discussing a matter with Lee, the surgeon Sam'd seen in the past as well. The nurse recognized him and addressed him "How's your friend doing? We're just on our way with his medication."

Sam squinted his eyes "But your coworker already was with him."

"No way. One nurse per patient policy in here," Lena said with a frown. "I thought you were aware of that, since your boss arranged his stay in here."

Sam inhaled, suddenly scared that something was going on and he pivoted on his heels and ran back, followed by the other nurse and the older doctor.

The red, alarming light flashed on the wall outside of the room. From the other way, a nurse hurried to the room as well. Sam was the first to arrive. All he saw was an empty bed and what sounded were the sole screams of a flat line on the screen of the monitor.

* * *

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**The Sting**

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Disclaimer: all the original characters belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. I just used them for this storyline. And for once, I hope the showrunners will explore the many assets Callen has shown in the first seasons again in season 12.

Authors Note: Thank you so much for leaving a kind word and/or a critical review, dramamama5, BiancaChris, wotumba1, JeaneneP, Linda Wigington, Teresa, CallenFan, and Guest 1 and Guest 2.

This storyline is coming to an end, so please enjoy the read.

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital**

**_Previously_**

Although he felt okay with Sam around, Callen was exhausted indeed and actually he didn't mind to have an hour or so alone, just to get the rest he needed. If only the stabbing pain would disappear. His usual tolerance to endure pain seemed to have left him completely right now.

That's why he nearly was grateful his partner was ushered out. He slowly exhaled and closed his eyes for a minute after the nurse closed the door once Sam left. He didn't really pay attention at her being inside with him, until again he felt how she let her gaze go over him. He expected she'd carry one of the standard trays with drugs, yet she didn't.

The moment he was about to ask if she had the right medication with her, she addressed him.

"So, you're the one responsible for the death of my brother. G. Callen. You know there's a price on your head, do you?"

Was he really surprised by a statement like this? He really didn't know. Too many times in his past he was confronted with people who were willing to revenge family members. Callen squinted his eyes, trying to see if there was something familiar. At that same time he realized how vulnerable he was at this moment.

It wasn't like he deliberately ignored her statement, he simply didn't know what to say to it. The many times his team members admired him for stonewalling the ones in the interrogation room, in order to get them to confess and start talking, well, he knew this time it was different. He wasn't stonewalling at all, he just had to process the information and the situation. A price on his head, issued by one of the endless list of people he dealt with in het past, but who?

Maybe she read the question in his eyes. "His widow is the one who issued all the recent information we needed about you," she told him, her dark eyes still fixed on him. "Too bad the shooter didn't succeed. It took us a few hospital visits to find you. The black car did it, again."

Again, he let go all the cases and faces pass his weary mind. Nothing came up, except for the fact Sam's car was far too easy to spot. Something he'd mentioned for what seemed ages ago, but never did his partner and he meant to deal with the issue as something seriously.  
Next to that, the sentences in which she explained more still didn't ring a bell either.

"You're a bounty hunter then?" he asked, trying to keep her gaze at his face and her attention to his words only.  
He had to win time, to let his weary mind work properly. Meanwhile, he slowly let his hand go over the cord which led to the patient alarm.

A grin appeared on her face as she snatched the button from his reach.  
"Don't think you can outsmart me from your position no more, mister Callen. All we want is to definitely cut you off from interfering with our business in here and across the border. This is the town where I am in charge whereas my brother ruled it in Mexico."

Mexico.  
"Williams."  
In a flash he combined Mexico with a widow. So, this was a sister of the man? Mosley's sister in law?

She just nodded. "You're the one who ruined their marriage. Who abducted his son. No wonder Spencer's widow is after you. The boy, well, probably you were coldhearted and put him in child care and at the hands of a cruel foster parent…"

Never. Not him.  
He shook his head. "You're wrong. The boy's with Shay. She was the one —"

The woman raised her hand to keep him from explaining any further, ignoring what he had to say. She went on. "You ruined our business too. General Vasquez is very, very eager to know how we definitely got rid of you. Definitely."

As in some kind of slow motion he simply observed how she took a small item from her suit. She folded it open and a razor-sharp knife was now in her hands. In a moment from now it would come his way and he already knew he wasn't in any condition at all to overwhelm this now furious woman.

In a matter of a few seconds he yanked the intravenous lines from the needle in his hand, as well as the cords that registered his vital signs. Having been hospitalized before, he knew it would alarm every nurse and every doctor nearby.

Within the same move he let himself roll out of the other side of the bed. He was fast, for a hospital patient. But far slower than he should be.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**_NOW_**

Alarms sounded on the corridor and a light kept flashing above the door of the private room where Callen staid. Sensing that something was very wrong, it was Sam who was the first to arrive in the room he'd left only minutes ago. He was met with an empty bed and the sole screams of a flat line on the screen of the monitor.

"G!" he yelled. He kept his breath when he spotted an arm next to the bed. And then, much to his relief, he heard a groan and saw how Callen lay on the cold linoleum. Alert, but there was blood everywhere and he was curled up in pain.

"In here," Sam alerted the nurse and doctor as he kneeled beside his friend. "G…" he started but fell silent when his friend gasped "Find her. No nurse."

Medical assistance was all around immediately and there was nothing he could do but watch how the four people started working on his friend.  
He got back on his feet, making way and slowly letting the incident sink in. In the corridor there were more people watching what the alarms were about and when Sam overlooked the small crowd, he noticed the nurse. As it was the other way around. She turned on her feet to get away.

"Stop!" Sam shouted.  
His order came in vain, of course. One more look at what went on behind him, he knew that medically Callen got the attention he needed.

His heart rate went up. A nurse who wasn't a nurse and who attacked his partner... and he didn't see it coming. Never had he imagined a danger coming from someone within. Not in this part of the hospital, where the security was supposed to be tight. Somehow this person slipped through the mazes and managed to get near Callen, so near that she could attack him. This small young, dark haired woman was an enemy. She was on the run already and once he motioned to the people around to make room, he went after her. He was faster though, as ever. She looked around, his way.

He did see how she threw away something. He did see how she headed to the stairwell. He did see how she - again - looked around, checking how far he was behind. He yelled at her again "Stop, federal agent!"

And then, once more looking over her shoulder, she collided with a visitor who came running up.

Then, much to his shock, he saw how she stumbled and fell down the concrete stairs.

There were cries, gasps and mumbles from behind him, from up and down the stairs and in a blink of an eye he knew from experience there was no way she survived this. The edge of her upper body in comparison with her head, the small pool of blood he noticed from underneath her head and the stare – Sam had seen too many people dying and this was one of these times.  
Still, he trotted down for a definite check. He kneeled beside her, felt if there was a heartbeat. None.  
No papers. Only thing he found was a key-cord with a name tag – was this the real Anita Franz or an imposter? Sam supposed she sneaked in while borrowing a uniform.

Would Callen know more?

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Half an hour later, Sam still didn't have any new information. He had shared pictures with Nell and Eric of the deceased woman.  
He'd let security know what happened and while they made sure they made fingerprints and have them send to his coworkers, they took care of the rest of it – have the corpse removed and have the surroundings. LAPD was around in case eye witnesses needed a debriefing.

Get proof that Callen's words were right, that the woman was no nurse. The uniform was borrowed, just like he expected.  
In the meantime, he'd informed Hetty and Deeks what had happened.

And now he was doing what he'd done before: wait until there was news about his partner.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Office of Special Projects, later**

"Monica Williams. Who would've thought Spencer Williams had a sister?" Nell mentioned. Their systems came up with the identity of the woman by the fingerprints and pictures which Sam sent.

"You think we need to get that other woman protected any longer?" Eric asked no one in particular.

"Callen's guardian angel you mean?" Deeks tried.

Nell shook her head. "Don't call her that, Marty. Yes, what Eric means is whether or not we ought to protect Ioulia Anghèl any longer. In fact, I doubt it is necessary. I mean, it must have been pure accidental that she was around, observing what went on and decided to save Callen's life. It's not that they were after her, after all."

"To think we assumed it was about Comescu," Deeks said. "Although, that guy is somewhere up there as well and I wonder… does it ever stop? Like vultures floating around or watching other predators attacking… Did we have the Williams' in your 'key-s-se-key', Nell?"

Nell shook her head and shrugged. "Didn't have a clue. Perhaps there's more we're missing."

"I agree with you, Nell," Kensi said. "Besides, they definitely made an attempt on Callen's life only." She let out a deep sigh. "This is all so twisted, guys. You know what? I'm going to have Hetty ask director Vance if by any chance Mosley can be reached. Even with her and the boy in a protection program and with a new government issued identity, he should the one able to reach her, right? The intel she used to get to the cartels now is used, probably by Vasquez and his men. Still, with everything we found, it's only Callen's identity they have on their hitlist. Why?"

"And does Callen know?" Eric wondered. The needed to wait until the agent in charge would be able to answer the question himself.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai hospital || two days later, halfway the morning**

No way Sam was leaving the place again. By now, he and Anna took turns in accompanying Callen. True, it got his partner quite cranky by now and wanting to get out of the place as soon as he could.

After the attack it took doctor Lee another round of surgery. The knife Monica Williams had used on him was meant to kill. And although it didn't, it did cut deep in his left upper arm and went through muscle and sinew. The action of saving his own life also effected the wound in his abdomen and damaged the previous one even more.

"What do you mean 'she is gone', Sam?"

"Like I said," Sam nodded, "Gone. Nowhere to be found. We don't know what happened, nor does her agency know, Callen. Kensi and Deeks went to tell the guards at the Good Samaritan, where she was treated, that there no longer were any threat's to be expected. Contrary to you. But then again, nobody knows where she is. It looks like she's vanished. Not in a morgue, not in any other hospital."  
He let out a deep sigh and decided that it was best to be completely honest with his friend. "You know, Eric managed to delete the online hitlist yesterday. It's only you on that list. Thin is, it keeps coming back. By now we've found it popping up again four times already."

He hated it, being in here and feeling useless and restless.  
"But it shouldn't be that hard for Eric or Nell to find the origin, Sam. I mean, if it is Vasquez who's behind it, Eric would be able to attack that network someway." Callen argued. "Kill the connection, place a digital bug, destroy the original post, something like that."

"Don't think they don't try, man. I mean, I wouldn't tell you if we already had managed."

"Can't you make them try harder? Have someone else's help fly in. If the Williams have more connections here in town…"  
Callen didn't finish his sentence. Sam would understand. Sure, the big guy meant to stay until Anna was back in here, there was a guard in front of his room as well, so everyone figured he was safe in here as he was. Of course he knew his team was working hard on his case.  
Being in a hospital sucked. In only a couple of days two attacks were made on his life, he'd had surgery twice, he never got a chance to thank Ioulia Anghèl and no one had a grip, yet, on this situation.  
Yeah, it truly sucked.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || Office of Special Projects || four days later**

Like nearly every Saturday morning Hetty arrived at 11 o clock sharp at the office where she was expected for a weekly PT session which would start at 11.30 am.  
Slowing down, she turned her silver Jaguar into the small parking next to the main entrance. She got out of the car and headed for the keypad next to the heavy wooden door. Much to her surprise, a green light already awaited her. Someone else had turned off the alarms. Never the therapist, since he didn't have a code to enter, hence her earlier arrival.

With no cases going on, who would be around? She expected it to be the analysts who mostly had some programs running and meanwhile used the gym.

She dropped her too large tote bag took off her coat and looked around. Nothing at the ground floor that stood out. She looked up and noticed the faint light coming from the Ops. Like she foresaw.

She took the 21 steps up and pressed the green button to open the sliding doors with a faint smile.

She was awaited with several pictures shown on the big screen. None of them she knew of. She saw Kensi and Callen lying down in the dust of what she figured was Mexico. From what she saw it must've been from immediately after of the accident in Mexico.  
There was a screenshot with the information Sabatino sent them, months after the team was active again, with the exact information which lately kept popping up, even though the analysts deleted it from scratch.  
A picture of Sam's Challenger shown at several crime scenes, and every time with Callen leaning against it.  
Deeks' bar.  
Mosley and Callen, openly discussing something which Mosley obviously didn't like.

Mesmerized, she took in everything she saw at Ops. It included a neat package of a standard issued NCIS bulletproof vest, atop with his badge. Next to it his laptop, opened. She shouldn't peek, but she did. An mail in concept, addressed to Leon Vance.

"Ah, dear boy..." She protectively hugged her own shoulders when a pang of sheer and plain regret and pain literally swept through her small stature. She inhaled deeply, knowing what his intentions were.  
She shook her head and closed the laptop rather roughly, startled immediately after by two shots that sounded. With another gasp, she spun on her heels only to realize it came from the shooting range. Only a few more steps further, she observed him.

Gun in his non-dominant hand, the arm still recovering, he stood there. Shooting and hitting another two shots, center mass.  
Then Hetty saw him replacing the magazine, changing his position only slightly before he aimed again, with his dominant hand this time. Quick shots. Twice the elbow, twice the wrist, in less than 5 seconds. The last two shots were bulls eye on the farthest of the paper sheets.

'Dangerous perfection,' she thought, with a strange feel of pride.

Callen dropped his gun on the shallow partition bar and stumbled half a step back and sort of collapsed against the glass partition wall, curling over his right hand which leant on his left hip, just for a little while to try and deal with the pain he still experienced. He still felt far too weak.  
Callen closed his eyes for a brief second. In that very same second he sensed he was being watched. Only she did that. He clenched his jaw and shook off the idea of being nabbed. Then again, he didn't have the energy to face her when by now he also realized she'd checked everything in Ops.

"Not now, Hetty," Callen said.

Only he'd know she was there, no one else in the team had that same sixth sense. By the look on his face, he was in pain and in a way she felt sad knowing he wasn't in the mood to talk.  
She decided to try it anyway "Now, these were marvelous shots, Mr. Callen."

"Gotta be able to shoot to protect," he replied without catching her gaze. He never shared his inner thoughts, not yet.

"Now, we're talking about self-protection, I presume, Mr. Callen?"

That way he bit the inside of his cheeks — Hetty knew how he did that when something bothered him.

His short reply "Maybe."

"You're going off the grid." Her voice quavered just a little.

This time he faced her, his blue eyes colder and harder than she'd seen before. "Listen, Hetty. As long as the geeks are unable to stop this… this thing, those list, the others won't be safe. I — it's not okay being with me around. I'd better leave so the others won't be in danger."

She pursed her lips just slightly when she stated "We all know general Vasquez is a dangerous enemy to face on your own."

He clenched his jaw when his eyes spit fire and he smirked "So what you're saying is that I'm in no condition to defeat him."

Callen stretched his shoulders, grabbed his gun and strode out of the shooting range, ignoring how she still stood there.

"Oh boy…" she murmured. Then she went down the stairs and went through the contents of her bag until she found her phone. She let her thumb go over the contacts until she found the number she needed, pressed it and waited until her call was being answered.

"Listen… I think we have trouble coming ahead," she said. "I suggest you come over here and pick up Mr. Callen."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || 631 Veteran Avenue ****|| several hours later**

She used the knocker to announce her arrival and smiled when she heard someone coming near to open the door. It was Anna who opened the door and let her in. Barefoot and wearing a short summer dress – Hetty only appreciated the fact that Callen obviously was completely at ease having her around.

"Miss Kolcheck... I cannot repeat how glad I am that you came around this morning. I suppose you sent Mr. Callen straight to bed."

"That's okay, Hetty." Anna send her a smile and motioned to the wide-open garden doors. "He needs his rest more than he wants to acknowledge, but this restlessness makes him… I don't know..."

She lead the older woman whom she knew saw Callen as the son she never had, further in the living room. "Please, take one of the other chairs in the garden, Hetty. And let me get you something to drink," Anna said. "Some lemonade perhaps."

Hetty spotted him on a deck chair, placed under a parasol. From a shorter distance she observed him, knowing he was asleep.  
She shook her head. Time passed by too fast. No longer did he have these boyish features, yet there was still something innocent and vulnerable now when he slept, contrary to his behavior and sturdiness when she witnessed him when he was at work or the angry and cold way he addressed her that morning.

With the hot summer weather, he was shirtless and wearing a pair of sport shorts only. He'd definitely lost weight in this week. And even from where she stood, she was appalled by the unruly way the deep purple stitches were visible on his pale bare skin.  
It made her swallow away the fear she felt, even now, that it would take only a second to lose him when the time came. And she'd be never ready to live with that scary thought.

"Hetty?" Anna saw how the older woman shivered shortly. "It's okay to stay inside, if you prefer."

"No dear, outside will be just fine by me."

She followed the young woman who placed the tray with three glasses of lemonade on a small table next to two comfortable chairs. The soft tinkle of the ice cubes probably woke him, or perhaps it were their soft voices.

Callen slowly opened his eyes, knowing he knew his company. Getting up from the position he was in right now would be quite a struggle, he knew, and so he turned away from both women and took his shirt. With some effort he managed to put it on before he faced his boss and his girlfriend.

Before he said a word, he sipped some of the cool beverage. Stalling her a little, knowing she would be the first to say a word.

"I brought you back your laptop, Mr. Callen. You left it in the Ops center this morning. Somehow, it seems it didn't want to save the items which were opened when you left it."  
She lifted an eyebrow like only she could, observing the impact of her words.

Tense, so tense that his shoulders cramped, he was back in the same angry mood of that morning. "So basically you decided to delete the information, that's what you're saying. MY private information."

Again, his eyes bored in hers in a way she never wanted him to.  
She took her glass and appreciated the freshness of the lemonade. Slowly, she put it aside again and shook her head.

"Grisha… Perhaps you are right and leaving is the best option indeed. I made the decision to inform director Vance about that."

He let the breath he kept escape through his nose and nodded "You mean you're okay with it."

* * *

TBC.  
_Thanks for leaving a review!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**The Sting**

* * *

**Authors Note:** Thank you so much for leaving a kind word and/or a critical review for the previous chapter or those before that. As I mentioned before, this storyline is coming to an end, so please enjoy the read.

For those who noticed (which I doubt anyone has) – I had Callen move back to his former place instead of having him live above the Squid and the Dagger! Never mind, for the sake of this story it fits anyway.

Kni®benrots

* * *

Disclaimer: all the original characters belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. I just used them for this storyline. No matter how, I'm grateful for those who introduced agent G. Callen to us and make him into the agent he's become.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || 631 Veteran Avenue **

"Grisha… Perhaps you are right and leaving is the best option indeed. I made the decision to inform director Vance about that," said Hetty.

He let the breath he kept inside, escape through his nose and nodded "You mean you're okay with it."

Hetty let her gaze rest on his. He wasn't going to like her message, she knew already that and she pondered over how to tell him. Deep down, there was still this suspicious side of him, which would make it hard to discuss this matter with him. She always would want to avoid situations like this, yet there was no way.  
Knowing him better than anyone, she figured he really might be the one able to deal with Vasquez in Mexico. Perhaps as an army of one, like he'd managed to be so many years before he finally gave in and became part of a team. He'd do anything to keep the others safe, even without bothering how he'd get out of it himself.

But not now.  
Not with him far from being recovered.  
And especially not now, during this time of his life when he finally seemed to be able and settle down. Maybe he'd even have the guts and start a family of his own. More than anything right now, Hetty Lange wanted to keep him safe.  
Slowly, very slowly, she shook her head. "No, no. No. Now, Mr. Callen, I'm sorry to inform you that we cannot let you go."

He let out a deep sigh and slowly sank back to a seated position on the daybed, feeling defeated but also overly angry at the same time. "Meaning what?"

There was the shortest pause, trying to gather the right words. She offered "We expect you to be at the office next Monday morning at 8:30 AM sharp. We, as in director Vance and I, Mr. Callen. After a short briefing you are offered two options. I suggest you choose wisely and decide to stay in here, in Los Angeles, doing paper work or lead your team from behind your desk until you are able to join them back in the field."

"But Hetty, I —"

Whereas she admired his usual unreadable expression, his emotions now were so easy to read. He shook his head, then lowered his head for a moment. He didn't say a word. Neither did she.  
"I can't do that. No way," he finally softly spoke. Then he jutted his chin in this specific way, his eyes vacant and bleak. "Not going there. I'm not going to endanger you or the others, no way. What if… No, Hetty, you can't be serious. There's no way you can force me doing this."

"I damn well can do that, Mr. Callen. And if you wonder what the consequences may be, well, let me be clear, you won't like them, not at all. To be honest, neither do I. Second option is you will be transferred to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. Definitely, that is. Now, this is nót what I think you really would want."

Everything she observed was wrong. The way Hetty tried to push him in a certain direction was wrong. True, Anna knew she meant well and Hetty was actually just letting him know what may happen, but Callen wasn't dealing with it well right now. She completely understood why. Frankly, she understood both ways.

"Callen, please. Hetty has a point in there. You need to let your body heal properly. Instead you intend to go sneak away and try to be some kind of superman," Anna said. "I... Well, you know you aren't. Nobody is invincible or immortal, not even you. Right now you're not in a condition to go out there on your own to try and walk over a legally employed General, in another country. No matter how corrupt he may be. And… I… Callen, I just don't want to lose you because you're too stubborn to see."

This time he looked up at her, his eyes clear and bright and blue. Still, Anna spotted the small pain lines and the way he looked fatigued. Perhaps he never expected her to tell him this.  
He shook his head once more. "But the team… Anna. I don't want to be the one responsible for what happens if they keep hunting me. They could get hurt or worse because of me."

Anna exchanged a non-spoken message with Hetty and said "Callen, the others are able to defend themselves. They've always been and you know that. There's no need for you to disappear. They all just have to be aware of their surroundings. But haven't they done that all the time?"

Callen rubbed his tired eyes. Perhaps they were right. Arguing like this in his condition was useless, perhaps. He breathed out heavily and gently stretched his legs, wanting to get back in the most comfortable position.  
"Maybe you're right," he sighed. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

He took his glass, swirled it so the ice cubes tinkled and finished his drink. Then he asked "Why, Hetty? Why did you delete my resignation letter and why don't let me leave?"

Her face softened this time. "If you'd quit you cannot come back, Grisha. May I remind you that every NCIS special agent ought to enter on duty no later than the day before he or she turns 37. You passed that age already."  
Hetty got on her feet, knowing she'd better finish her visit and leave these two alone. "Your team needs you, Mr. Callen. So does this city," she said. Then she spread her right arm and added with a small nod. "Heck.. the country does. We all do."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || OSP || four days later**

He took his go-bag, got out of the car and closed its door. Then he walked around it and flashed a smile through the opened window of the driver's seat.

"I'll see you tonight, Anna," he said, keeping his stare on her.

Then he moved closer, close enough to gently put his hand under her chin. He bent down until he was close enough to finally make his lips meet hers. Making his kiss linger only a bit too long, feeling whole, with her.

"I'll pick you up. You just be careful," she whispered.

He shove a wisp of hair out of her face as he replied "As ever. "You too."

She put the car in gear and drove off. He watched her leave. His girlfriend. There was the sudden realization and with the softest chuckle to himself he added, without anyone who heard it "you too, Kolcheck. Don't want to lose you ever again."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"You seen Hetty, Nell?" asked Sam.

Nell shook her head. "Not today. Why?"

"I'm gonna need an authorization. We know Zamora is staying at the Cambria. ICE confirmed it. We need to know if he's got anything to do with Vasquez' business."

The petite redhead shook her head. "I could send a request to director Vance. Although..."

"Although what?"

"If Hetty's not around, it means she left Callen in charge. He just left Ops, so why not ask him?" Nell suggested.

Although he hadn't seen his partner, Sam nodded. He left Ops and went to look for Callen downstairs. He found his friend's go-bag, jacket and laptop at the coffee table, but not the owner. He wasn't at the shooting range either. One more room to check.  
That's where he saw his friend, struggling with dumbbells that obviously were far too heavy.  
He shook his head as he entered the gym and said "You idiot."  
He lifted the dumbbells while addressing his friend. "What were you thinking, G?"

At first, the look on Callen's face was vacant. Some seconds later he looked away. "This desk duty... it won't suit me Sam. Not ever. So I need to get my energy level up, get back in shape, get back with you in the field."

"Not with thát exercise. Straining the muscles in these areas is far too early and you know it."

"Cycled too," Callen shrugged as he tried to change into a more comfortable stance to hide the aches he experienced indeed.  
It never fooled his partner though.

"Yeah, sure." Sam shook his head. "Give it time man. You're no longer 30 years old."

"Why'd you come anyway?" Callen asked. "Not some kind of supernatural feeling, was it?"

A broad smile and the typical dimples appeared on Sam's face. "Supernatural my ass, buddy. I need an signature and since Hetty's not around I was hoping you could arrange that."

Callen nodded. "You've got Nell find the paperwork already?"

"Sure. Where's the little lady anyway?"

"Washington. Something with the Defense Acquisition Board. Again, that is definitely not my cup of tea. What did you find anyway?" He changed the subject as he took a towel to wipe off the sweat from his face on his way back to the desk area.

"Zamora."  
The single name was enough for Callen. He frowned, then nodded. "'La Eme'? Also with a bullet with my name on it, I suppose... Crap, Sam, how does this all end? Eric has been trying to remove every single message on the internet but it keeps bouncing back. I mean... yeah, I know we all have our enemies but it gets absurd."  
He took the paperwork and a pen, let his gaze go over the text and signed it.  
"You get Kensi and Deeks to go with you. I'll see to it there'll be a backup team as well. If you manage to arrest Zamora and get him in, I want to get involved with his interrogation too."

"You think that's wise?"

"You think it won't?"

Sam cocked his head slightly. "Well, it's you they're after. Hetty wouldn't let you do that, work your own case."

"She's not around so guess who's in charge?" Callen chuckled. "Anything better than sitting and waiting in here, feeling useless."

"Anything better than seeing you torturing yourself."

"Go, Sam. The sooner you're off, the sooner we know."

Sam nodded, turned and left while arranging that Deeks and Kensi were right where he needed them to be. He trusted Callen would do the same for another team.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

A few hours later both interrogation rooms were occupied. From the central room, Callen had taken a chair and leaned back, trying to follow what his co-workers were discussing. With Kensi and Deeks asking Zamora about his intentions. It was all clear the man had been looking for him. In the meantime the team had and the money transfers which had been traced back coming from Vasquez indeed. There was another man who was easily caught as well, in the same action, and right now, Sam was checking who he was and what his intentions were. Probably nothing which would surprise them.  
Callen leaned backwards even more until the chair he sat on was balancing on its two back legs only, pondering over the matter why it was only him they were after.  
His face, his name and occupation only, never those of his team members. He really resented the fact Mosley managed to put these around. By now, he was ready and done with this matter.

Then, the big screen came to life as well and Eric started to speak. "Callen, I think you need to see this!"

* * *

TBC

Thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**The Sting**

* * *

Authors Note: Planned to write this as the final chapter of this storyline, yet it doesn't want to be finished already. So… please stick with me just a little longer, will you?  
To all of you who took the time to read it and find the time to leave a review – or more than one! – thank you so much! To me as the writer of this story, it really gives the feeling that what I did was appreciated.  
Linda Wigington, Varvarra11, wotumba1, Morganluvr and Bandit8: thank you so much for your reviews!

Kni®benrots

* * *

Disclaimer: all the original characters belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. I just used them for this storyline. No matter how, I'm grateful for those who introduced agent G. Callen to us and make him into the agent he's become.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_The big screen came to life as well and Eric started to speak. "Callen, I think you need to see this!"_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles || boatshed**

Callen's attention was immediately for Eric's excitement so he had the chair back on all four legs and he slightly leaned over to the screen. "What's that, Beale?"

"This is what was going on early this afternoon."  
Eric Beale's explanation was accompanied with footage of hills and small sheds, a lonely church, dusty roads. Nothing Callen recognized immediately. Then the slow feeds from the camera changed to fast forward and he understood it wasn't drone feed he watched, but feed from a camera attached to a fighter plane.  
All of a sudden he knew what he was watching. The small village where he and the team met with Arlo Turk, over a year ago. The place where General Arturo Vasquez had his headquarters.  
Callen swallowed away the sudden nausea he felt, not sure though how the next images would look. He was all too aware that no way a fighter jet passing by was to be connected to the US.

"The latest technology was on board and it was used. This caused electric malfunctioning inside the station which obviously deleted the servers. Oh, and it caused a fire as well. Paperwork got lost," Eric said.

"Vasquez?"

"Don't know about him. I haven't been able to contact Turk's successor yet."

Callen shook his head. "Never mind Eric. In fact, I don't think we need to worry about him right now. Thanks anyway."  
Eric didn't have to work that much further on contacting the new agent in Mexico, because Hetty already had, Callen was sure about it. She'd never wanted him to go, not him to be the one to be traced back to be responsible for any action at all.  
Washington, yes, she must be in there but never for the purpose she'd mentioned. Callen wasn't sure what to think of this all. He detested the fact Hetty and perhaps Vance too, kept this mission from him. At the same time he was far too tired to mull over this all. In fact, he was grateful too, come to think about it. If Vasquez' systems were destroyed it meant that there would be no new digital threats coming in any longer.

Again Callen shook his head, this time more or less to himself.

No matter how Hetty mostly opposed black ops, he was aware that somehow NCIS' petite and seasoned operations manager from Los Angeles arranged a mission with or without the NCIS' director to end the continuous threat to his life, his team, which meant that most probably, Vasquez didn't live to know what happened.

With Zamora, the person most likely to replace the Williamses in Mexico and Los Angeles, in this very same building and out of the way as well, it meant he'd be safe from all of them.

There'd always be enemies and there'd always be the dangers of fighting crime, he was well aware of that. For now, he was more relaxed. All he'd have to do was to recover, get better and stronger and get back in the field with Sam.

He took his phone and pressed the pre-dial key to reach his friend. Sam just answered with a "What's up?"

"You got a moment?" Callen asked.

Seconds later the door of the interrogation room opened and were shut immediately after and his partner joined him. Sam raised his brow and said "What is so important you made me come over here?"  
If it were up to him he'd summon his friend to lie down on the couch, yet it was situated too far from the screens and he knew Callen was too stubborn and too involved.

"Eric just let me know that all possible digital proof Vasquez is deleted. Permanently. Next to that, all his paperwork burned. Which means I think there are no other or new threats from Mexico or la Eme."

Implicitly Callen said he'd be safe, since the team had never been hunted down the way they discovered Callen was.

Slowly, Sam nodded. "That would be great, G."

"Yeah," Callen said with a grin. He tipped his head to the screen where Kensi and Deeks were questioning Zamora. "I guess that guy will be transferred to one of the state prisons later this afternoon. How about the other one you brought in?"

Sam rolled his shoulders as he let his thoughts go over the question. "Dunno," he finally said. "Both are, well, smug, I'd say. And 'bout my man in there, well, it was almost as if he wanted to get caught. Different from Zamora; the three of us worried about Zamora and the back-up team got their hands on the other man."

He addressed the co-workers at the OSP "What've you found out about Raoul Cortez?"

Some seconds later, Nell's voice sounded through the comms. "He's being paid by Zamorra, so if you trace it back, also by Vasquez. Still, he appears to be just a pawn on the big board. He's been in a couple of times for drug dealing and manhandling. Major debts."

Sam hummed. "So he's probably on to some extra payment."

"But why? For what?" Callen asked. "I could go and try and get him to talk about it."

"You could, but you aint," Sam said. "If he's nothing but a collateral catch, why worry? Agent Castor can make arrangements to get him picked up as well. That way, there's nothing to worry about and I can get you a ride back to the OSP, or get you back home."

"Dunno." Callen shrugged as he slowly got up on his feet. He turned and moved to the kitchenette, only to lean against it and facing his friend. "Really Sam, it's just a gut feeling."

"Feeling your gut may have to do with your earlier ridiculous attempt to work out," Sam said.

Callen shook his head. "I'm serious, Sam. It just doesn't add up in my opinion."

"Okay. You're serious. I'm giving it another try. Ten minutes. If he doesn't talk, he doesn't, and then there's no arguing any longer, and I'm going to get your stubborn ass back to headquarters until it's time to go home."

There was a long and deep sigh from his friend and partner, which Sam decided to ignore.

Callen rubbed his tired eyes. Perhaps Sam was right, as was Nell. This was only a a puppet and Zamorra was the puppeteer, as was Vasquez with Zamorra. Still…

He pressed his microphone and spoke "Deeks. Ask Zamorra about Cortez, what he's been paid for to do."

He focused on Zamorra's expression, and all he got from that was a smirk. Nothing to work with and so Callen took his tablet and tried to make sense of it all.

He still was working on an own file when Sam entered the main room. "So, you ready?"

Callen nodded. "Gimme a minute."

"Sure. I'll make arrangements with Castor and will be waiting for you, mister sunshine."  
Meanwhile he shook his head, noticing how washed out his friend really looked.

Minutes later, Callen closed the door of the boathouse and squinted his eyes against the bright light of the Californian sun. Sam leaned against the hood of his car, his broad arms crossed relaxedly in front of him. "Well now, captain slow. You finally ready?" he smiled.

Grumpy because of the words Sam spoke, Callen just passed his partner to move to the passenger door. It was then when he noticed the flash of something being caught by a beam of sunlight and he immediately knew it.

"Sniper!" he yelled.

He launched himself towards Sam and floored his partner just in time and they landed behind the car Sam had driven.  
A loud groan sounded when Callen managed to hoist himself upright as much as possible.

"G?"

"I'm okay."

Before Sam wanted to disagree - after all he noticed the expression on his friend's face - shots were fired in their direction again. Callen had his gun at the ready just as fast as Sam. From behind the car they got up as much as possible and fired simultaneously in the direction of where they figured the shooter was.

"No use," Callen panted.

Sam shook his head. "Kensi, Deeks?"

In their earpieces they heard the response from Kensi. "What's going on? You're alright?"

Another couple of volleys came their way. This time Callen sounded, his voice strained. "Yes."

"Don't have my rifle in here."  
She knew that it was useless to use the handguns against a sniper. "Can you get back inside?"

Sam glanced at his friend, then estimated the distance to the entrance of the boathouse. He shook his head. "Impossible," he answered. "We'd be exposed too long and too easy a target to hit."

"How the hell—" Deeks reacted. "Wait. That guy in room 2; Sam, has he been thoroughly searched? What did we miss?"

It didn't matter, not now. For once, Sam had taken precautions. He'd taken a car from the car pool instead of the all too familiar Challenger, knowing Callen was quite stubborn about it, still, they'd been followed. Hoping to get to Callen, somehow, and aiming for the price on his head. There was this pang of guilt he shouldn't feel. The fear of losing his partner after all.  
The anger too. Mosley was the one responsible for all these people hunting down Callen. Her way of thanking Callen for saving her son, a mission which nearly cost their lives already, nearly a year ago.

New shots came their way.

"A back-up team is coming your way. ETA 10 minutes from now."

"Useless, Nell."

It was quiet for a second or so. Then, only three shots sounded, well aimed. It hit the car at the exact angles they'd shoot it themselves and it was Sam who noticed the fuels leaking from the petrol tank and oil of the motor itself. It would take another spark to ignite the gasses and fuel and the two of them had to leave from hiding anyway.  
There was only one other way out.

"G…" Sam urged his partner to follow his gaze to the water of the Marina.

Callen understood and while they both kept as low as they could, Sam yelled in the coms "Taking the wet way!"

A short sprint and then they jumped in the cold water behind the parking nearest to the boat house. Seconds later, their coms were out, since the electronic systems didn't correspond with water.

* * *

TBC


End file.
